


The Haunting of Dusk Vigil

by KivaEmber



Series: Wine Cellar [25]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Blood and Violence, Canonical Character Death, Established Relationship, Heavy Angst, Horror, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, M/M, Male!WoL - Freeform, Mindfuck, Miqo'te!WoL - Freeform, Original Character Death(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Horror, Psychological Trauma, Slavery, Survival Horror, Voidsent - Freeform, Zombies, there are dead people, very very implied
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-04-23 17:13:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14337231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KivaEmber/pseuds/KivaEmber
Summary: The Ishgardian Republic has finally gathered the necessary manpower and resources required to launch an expedition to Dusk Vigil, in hopes of reclaiming it for Ishgard. Led by Aymeric, with the Warrior of Light offering assistance for the zombie and monster infestation, it was believed it would be hard, tiring work - but fairly straightforward.But then the Warrior of Light discovers the Voidsent in the basement, and things get... mind-fucky.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> CW: THIS IS HORROR. DISTURBING THEMES.

Aza tucked his nose into his scarf as a blustery gust of snowy wind swept over him, fighting down a violent shiver from the sheer cold. Banepool was a terrible place to be in the height of winter, and the freezing wind just cut right through his layered armour, practically sucking the warmth out of him. He was a little jealous to see the Ishgardian soldiers milling around him didn’t seem overly bothered by it all, but he supposed living for so long in a frozen wasteland built up a kind of resistance to this _soul sucking cold_.

“Hmm, cold, are we?”

“G-Get f-f-fucked,” Aza hissed, squinting a narrowed, unhappy glower at Aymeric. His partner looked annoyingly comfortable, even when dressed in his usual armoured attire. Flakes of snow was caught in his hair, and Aza would normally admire how pretty that was if his tail wasn’t in danger of dropping off from frostbite, “I’m n-n-not build for the c-c-cold.”

Aymeric didn’t hide his smile, looking down at him with amusement clear in his expression, “You’re really not. By the way, out of curiosity… how many layers are you wearing?”

Three, plus the thermals Tataru was kind enough to make for him when she learned he was spending most of his time in Ishgard. Aymeric also knew this, having watched him bundle up this morning before they left for Banepool with a contingent of soldiers, because his partner was awful and refused to let him use his usual tactic of stuffing his armour full of fire shards to stay toasty warm. ‘You’ll set yourself on fire again’, he had said, which Aza found extremely silly because he only set himself on fire _once_ by accident. Just the once.

“N-Not en-nough…” Aza shivered, voice muffled behind his thick scarf. A shout drew his attention, and he looked over towards Dusk Vigil’s towering, frozen doors, watching the soldiers successfully wrenching them open wide enough to allow full access, instead of the one bod squeezing through the tiny gap between the doors.

“We’ll soon be inside,” Aymeric murmured to him, clearly taking pity on him and tugging him close to his side. Aza, shamelessly, burrowed in close. While Aymeric didn’t radiate much warmth, his bigger body shielded him from the cutting wind at least, “And then you can warm yourself up cutting down whatever monsters still reside in there.”

“Z-Z-Zombies, mostly,” Aza chattered, though he thought he killed all of them last time he swept through. Then again, he didn’t peek into each room, having been keen to race through the frozen vigil as fast as possible. There were probably pockets of zombies still shuffling about in frozen agony, as well as the monsters that made their home there. “M-M-Maybe… an-nother Griffin…”

“I’ll let you tend to that,” Aymeric hummed, giving him a slight squeeze around the shoulders. Soldiers were beginning to filter into the vigil now. “Alright, off you go. Try not to outpace the soldiers.”

“Yes, handsome,” Aza said, reluctantly peeling himself away from Aymeric’s side. He turned to him, blowing him a kiss, drawing a smile from his partner, and trotted off towards the entrance to Dusk Vigil. It wasn’t that much warmer inside, but at least he’d be out of the wind and, like Aymeric said, warm himself up cutting through whatever creatures resided in there.

Then, after that bit of work was done, he’ll drag his frozen corpse home, Aymeric in tow, and have a nice warm bath… snuggle up in bed afterwards, mmm… yes, he’ll just hold onto that lovely mental image to get him through these next horrible, freezing cold hours.

(Oh, if only he knew what waited for him.)

 

* * *

 

 

They managed to set up forward operating base in entrance hall, where a frozen corpse of an Oliphant was slumped in the far corner. From what Aymeric understood, Aza had slayed it the last time he ran through here, and the insidious chill of Dusk Vigil had claimed the corpse for itself. It was frozen solid, to the disappointment of some of the soldiers who had been curious to know how the beast would have tasted.

Aymeric gazed at the impressive beast absent-mindedly, as soldiers milled about the hall. He wasn’t sure if this expedition was such a good idea – the government had been keen to reclaim it, now that they had enough men and breathing room to mount such an ambitious task, but Dusk Vigil was a wreck. The walls were crumbling, it was infested with the cursed bodies of its previous occupants, and monsters prowled its halls. It would take time and a lot of resources to rebuild it back to its former glory. But if they succeeded, then they would have taken back a little bit of their land that Dalamund’s fall had taken from them – and entrench a powerful defensive position on the border of the Dravanian Forelands and the Sea of Clouds.

He sighed. It just felt too early to attempt something like this…

“Lord Commander, sir!”

Aymeric turned away from the beast to the soldier approaching him at a rapid pace, “What is it?”

The soldier skidded to a halt – literally, as his boot caught a patch of ice – and after a flustered moment of straightening himself up and snapping off a salute, said; “The squad that is advancing with the Warrior of Light brings news, sir. Ser Yuhelmeric’s body has been recovered, amongst those of other knights. They are…” He bowed his head, “Ser Aza’s accounts were true, that they were cursed as the living dead, sir.”

Aymeric quietly took this in. Aza had told them that he had fought a cursed version of Ser Yuhelmeric, but he had hoped he’d been mistaken. If this had been during the days of the Holy See, Ser Yuhelmeric and those that shared his fate would’ve been declared outside of Halone’s grace, and to be burned to ashes without fanfare. Religious ideals remained within the running of Ishgard’s Republic, but…

“Place them somewhere secluded for now,” Aymeric said, “With a guard. I will send a missive back to the Holy See to request guidance on their… handling.”

“Sir!”

Aymeric watched the soldier race off, feeling weary. For years, no one really understood why Ser Yuhelmeric never returned after Dalamud’s Fall. Many believed he had been too devoted and loyal to leave Dusk Vigil unguarded, no matter how ruined – but if Nidhogg’s brood had launched an attack, every soldier would’ve been slaughtered, a pointless martyr for Halone. Ser Yuhelmeric had either been blinded by his faith or compromised by something else.

A mystery that will never be solved, he supposed, unless the Echo graced Aza with answers.

“Sir,” Lucia appeared like a ghost beside him, almost making him twitch from surprise. When he turned to her, he saw the slight uplift of her mouth, clearly amused at startling him, “Preparations have been finished. We’re ready to advance deeper into Dusk Vigil.”

“I’ll go with the first group,” Aymeric said. That sense of disquiet was still prodding at him, and he hoped it was from sharing a room with a dead, giant beast. Perhaps distracting himself by personally surveying the damage of the vigil will help him shake the feeling, “You can ensure this encampment is settled… ah, and before I forget, send a message back to Ishgard, requesting guidance on how Ser Yuhelmeric’s corpse is to be handled.”

“Sir,” Lucia nodded, and strode off to do as she was ordered. Aymeric turned back to the Oliphant.

Yes, he really had a bad feeling about this.

 

* * *

 

“Look at them just… shuffling down there.”

Launix nodded silently as he and his fellow knight, Ilsent, looked down at the hall below. They were standing on an admittedly precarious ledge, the floor having crumbled in and leaving a gaping, ominous hole revealing the barracks below. Amidst the half-rotted cotbeds and personal belongings strewn on the stone floor, shambling corpses walked in aimless circles. Launix watched as two of them bumped into each other, staggering awkwardly, before resuming their restless, mindless pacing.

“I think I recognise him,” Ilsent continued, his voice hushed as he crouched down by the edge of the hole. The floor made a low groan of protest but didn’t budge. He pointed to a lanky figure loitering by the edge of a collapsed cotbed, his face white and lips blue, frost coating his armour. In fact, Launix suspected he was frozen in place, not that the zombie seemed all that concerned about it.

“They all look the same, Ilsent,” Launix whispered to him, keeping a healthy distance from the edge of the hole, “Pale, gaunt, and _dead_.”

“We went through training together,” Ilsent continued, like he didn’t hear him, “He was a Brume brat, and so proud to make it through. He was going to send money back to his sister, I think…”

They both lapsed into a solemn silence, watching the cursed men below amble mindlessly.

“This is an awful place,” Ilsent murmured, “Something foul happened here, I can feel it in my bones.”

“Should be left to collapse in on itself,” Launix agreed quietly. Every since he entered this place, his shoulders itched, like he was being watched by something. Evil lingered here, a tragedy filled with bitterness and resentment. He wasn’t a superstitious man – by Ishgardian standards, anyway – but even he felt that they shouldn’t disturb this frozen tomb. They were inviting curses, or _something_ , on their heads by rummaging around in here.

“Yes, but the Republic wants to reclaim this place,” Ilsent sighed, pushing himself up onto his feet, “With any luck, the Lord Commander might declare it a lost cause.”

“Should we alert Ser Aza about these?” Launix asked, gesturing to the hole, “He’ll be able to deliver them a kindness.”

Ilsent nodded distractedly, shooting the hole a look mingled with weariness and grief, “Yes. I would do it but… I have no delusions. With so many of them, we’ll be slaughtered.”

They wandered back into the hallway, away from the hole. They could distantly hear their fellow knights clomping through the adjacent rooms, searching them for any monsters or cursed men. Launix craned his neck slightly, finally spotting Ser Aza standing at the far end of the hallway, peering into a large room. Despite his surroundings he seemed utterly unconcerned about the horrors of the place – although that may be because he seemed too busy trying to shiver out of his own skin.

Miqo’te were mostly… desert and forest-based, weren’t they? Gods, this place was probably hell on him.

“Ser Aza,” he called, striding towards him with Ilsent on his heels, “We’ve found something.”

Aza turned to them, his ears flicking forwards in what Launix was suspecting to be curiosity, “Oh?”

“A group of cursed men, ambling in the barracks below,” Launix said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder, “They seem… void of thought.”

“Just walking in circles, bumping into each other,” Ilsent added.

Whatever interest Aza had immediately dimmed, “Their brains are probably solid ice cubes… do you need me to deal with it, or they too much for you?”

“There’re too many for just myself and Knight Ilsent,” Launix said apologetically.

Aza sighed a put upon sigh, but rolled his shoulders and pushed off the wall he’d been lounging against, “Alright, show me the walking stiffs.”

They took him to the hole, where he leaned over the edge and made a low ‘hm’ noise.

“We can try to find a path there,” Ilsent said, “But if it’s the floor below… most likely the passageway has crumbled.”

Meaning the knights below had been trapped down there for who knows how long before succumbing to their fate. Launix tried to imagine it, the vigil collapsing down on him, trapping him in a room, with the cold seeping in and hunger gnawing at your bones. He shook off a shudder, the emotion to empathetic to be normal.

“I’ll just jump down,” Aza said carelessly, straightening up as he unlatched his blade from its magnetic sheath. The greatsword was swung over his shoulder in an elegant move, its tip hovering just over the edge of the hole. His bright, yellow eyes scanned the shambling figures below, picking out a suitable target. “Go grab some rope, will you? I’ll explore any passageways while I wait.”

And with that, the Warrior of Light hopped down the hole. Ilsent left instantly, probably unable to stomach watching fellow knights be cut down, but Launix lingered. He watched as Aza neatly cleaved a man in two as he landed, and as the zombies stirred from their daze, focusing on the Miqo’te with starving intent, Aza just advanced into the room, his blade swinging sure and true.

It took less than thirty seconds, for every cursed man to be cut down. The last was the man Ilsent pointed out, who did not resist his fate as Aza kindly parted his head from his shoulders. His body remained standing in place, up until Aza gently nudged his chest with the tip of his blade, forcing him to topple backwards onto his collapsed cot.

And that was that.

Aza sheathed his blade, looked about the room with something like boredom, before striding out of view. Launix could hear the noise of things being moved and shifted, and he quietly left, disquieted. Aza killed them with such ease – no hesitation, even though they wore the faces of men. Launix knew that he, and many others would have hesitated. But, perhaps that was why the Lord Commander insisted Aza was sent with the forward party. Killing things was his talent, after all.

A necessary one, though. Launix was aware that one needed monsters to fight other monsters. Still, such a frightful thing to witness first hand.

 

* * *

 

These zombies were not like Ser Yuhelmeric.

They didn’t resist all that much and seemed less coordinated. Maybe Aza stirred up the more able-bodied corpses when last coming through, leaving the weak, utterly brain-dead ones to clutter the nooks and crannies, but it meant this expedition was a massive, boring disappointment. Bored, cold, irritated… Aza just kept telling himself that at the end of it, he’ll be able to share a nice, warm bed with Aymeric, well worth sticking his hands elbow deep into this useless mess.

Why did they even want Dusk Vigil, anyways? It was a tomb. An ugly, frozen tomb that should just lie here for eternity.

The barracks he hopped in had a door that was half-crumbled. It took a few kicks, but he managed to dislodge the stubborn piece of wood frozen to the doorframe, submitting him into a dark, silent hallway. The air stank of staleness and damp, and as Aza squinted into the dark, he couldn’t make anything out in the hallway. The darkness was almost opaque, and if he strained his hearing, he could hear… something, like a low buzz, or a murmur.

The Echo pulsed a warning, soft and hesitant.

Now, _this_ seemed interesting, he thought. First instinct was to wander down the hallway, curious to see what would lunge out at him in the dark, but he stifled it with some difficulty, hovering in the doorway to the barracks. He looked about his feet, stooping down to pick up a sizeable rock, and tossed it lazily down the hallway.

It bounced, loudly, flying through the air, out of sight and – nothing. It didn’t land again.

Hmm.

He took a few careful steps forwards. The darkness seemed to close around him like a physical blanket, making his nose twitch when an overpowering smell of _rot_ washed over him. He fought down the urge to gag, pulling up his scarf to cover his nose as he took a few more steps, reaching his hand out to touch the wall. It felt wet and slimy to the touch, and he muttered a low noise of disgust as he retracted his hand.

“What the…” he muttered, squinting down at his hand. He just made it out in the low-light – some thick, viscous fluid. Oh, it if was slime mould he was going to have to burn these gloves.

Well, he couldn’t see anything. He couldn’t even feel a breeze that signalled an exit – he supposed the passageway was completely crumbled and blocked off. Heaving a sigh, he turned around and took a few steps before – stopping.

…

Where was the doorway?

The hallway stretched out before him, but the doorway that _should have been right there_ was gone. Just another looming dark hallway, the walls slick and wet looking as the buzzing murmur grew louder. The Echo pulsed another warning, this time more urgent, sharp.

Aza flicked his tail from side to side, looking over his shoulder. Nope. Just the hallway as well.

Damn.

“I fucking hate haunted places,” Aza muttered into his scarf, considering his options. He was either trapped in an illusion, or this place had brushed too closely to the Void, for its reality to be distorted so much. He wasn’t sure which was more unnerving.

Well, he could either advance into the hallway, or retreat. He didn’t know what lied in wait for him on either end, but he wasn’t afraid. Annoyed, perhaps, because if these ghosts made him wander about this freezing cold place longer than he had to, then he was burning this place down and sanctifying the ashes.

He decided to advance, walking boldly into the dark. With each step the Echo pulsed its warning faster and faster, the air growing thick with the stink of putrefaction. He breathed through his mouth, the scarf filtering out the worse of the smell, and startled when a solid noise finally cut through the unnatural quiet – a laugh.

A soft, feminine, childish laugh.

Aza went still, his gaze flickering sightlessly in the impenetrable dark. The noise echoed around him, and something scrambled, like scurrying rats, behind him. Slowly he lifted his hand towards the hilt of his blade, just in case, and took another step forwards. The scurrying noise followed him.

“C’mon, ghost…” he murmured softly, taking another step, slow and predatory, muscles tense with anticipation. The scurrying noise grew louder, closer, “Show yourself so I can stab you~”

Something flickered in the distance, like a candle light just breathed into life. Light blossomed, weak and wavering, and Aza held his breath when it created a small silhouette, like that of a Lalafell, or a child. They stood, slightly listing to one side, and waited.

Aza waited too. 

But the silhouette didn’t move, and the scurrying noise had gone silent, so Aza supposed if he wanted to advance whatever mind-fuckery this place was trying, he had to move forwards. Every instinct he had was shrieking, telling him to turn around and walk away, but morbid curiosity and stubbornness forced him forwards. He advanced on the silhouette, closer and closer.

They were a Miqo’te child, he realised when he was close enough to distinguish the shape a bit better. The light, a wisp bobbing gently behind them, wasn’t bright enough to give him more than that. He stopped just out of arm’s reach, his hand firmly clasped on the hilt of his sword, yellow eyes keen as he stared this potential Voidsent in disguise down.

The silhouette craned its head back, and wide, yellow eyes of a Keeper child stared back.

“…za…” the child gurgled, like they were speaking through a mouthful of fluid, “A…za…”

His heart. Stopped.

Even distorted like that, he knew that voice. He knew that voice. He knew.

“No,” he said, quietly, firmly, into the dark, “No.”

The child shuddered, took a step forwards – Aza almost tripped over himself stepping _back_ , and the wisp glowed a little brighter, revealing – the pale brown hair, short, with the slit in her ear when she tumbled through the bramble patch that one hot summer, the light freckles over her cheeks and her stumbling, gaping hole in her chest, caved in from when he had _no no **no**_ -

Aza swung his blade without thinking, cleaving it through the child in one wild, frantic swing. She let out a scream – sharp and agonised and _exactly like memory_ enough that Aza damn near let go of his blade in horrified panic – but she vanished. She _vanished_. Thank _fuck she **vanished**_.

The wisp flickered out of existence and Aza was plunged back into complete darkness. He breathed heavily, hands trembling violently as he held his blade in front of him, forcing down the memories that threatened to bubble up. No. _No_. He will _not_ remember that. He will _not_. He will _not_.

The laughter echoed around him – _her_ laugher, exactly as it sounded from memory. Mocking.

He wanted to scream, but he refused to give the fucker the satisfaction. Voidsent. Definitely Voidsent. One that has naughtily been rummaging around his memories, it seemed. Oh, he was going to fucking _rip them apart_ for this. How dare they. How fucking _dare_ they?

“I’ll kill you,” he whispered into the dark, clutching his blade like it was a lifeline, stalking forwards with murderous intent, “I’ll kill you. I’ll _kill you_.”

The wisp flickered again, further down, tantalisingly – no silhouette this time – but it lingered far out of reach, coaxing him onwards. He could see the shadows cast on the walls, bit of masonry and support beams littering the floor as treacherous obstacles. His hands would _not_ stop shaking, damn it.

Yellow eyes looked up at him, wide and blank with incomprehension when he – no. Don’t think on that.

 _You killed me_ , the shadows whispered to him, quiet and mocking, _You killed me, you killed me, you killed me._

“I-I didn’t, it wasn’t, I didn’t mean to,” he whispered tremulously, before realising he was talking to fucking _nothing_ and bit his tongue hard enough to draw blood. Laughter echoed around him, just as he stepped into a room. It didn’t look like anything special – a small, closeted shrine, almost, with a cracked, miniature statue of Halone on an altar, a wooden bench rotted and snapped in half before it, the walls bare except for a mouldy tapestry and empty, cold sconces.

The wisp – flickered out of existence.

Aza stayed there for a long moment, breathing in the smell of rot. It was silent now – nothing leapt out of him, no Voidsent came slithering out of the darkness to possess or devour him. Just him, alone with his thoughts. He’d prefer the Voidsent.

“Fray?” he whispered quietly, ignoring how his voice wobbled dangerously, “Fray. Are you here?”

Silence.

The darkness felt almost physical, pressing down on him. The Halone statue stared right him, her face a mask of disgust and disapproval. Aza had the oddest, knee-jerk urge to smash it into pieces, but held the violent urge in, his blade wavering as his hands shook almost too badly to keep it aloft.

“I’m not going to fall for it,” he muttered, “Moment I put this down, you’ll pop out at me. Trying to mess me up, showing me _that_ , hah, I’m not gonna fall for it. Nope. No.”

He pivoted and was utterly unsurprised to see the doorway he had walked in was nothing more than smooth stone. Fucking Voidsent magic.

_‘scritchsctich’_

Aza spun round, his blade knocking over the Halone statue from his wild movement – he flinched when it tumbled to the floor, shattering, but his eyes were too busy scanning his surroundings – nothing. Nothing there. But something kept scratching and scrambling, just out of view, and the darkness felt like it was pressing in more and more, the buzzing murmur-

Aza backed up, several steps, needing a wall to brace against when- movement-

Something swung out of the wall _right next to him_ and he acted on wild, half-panicked instinct.

There was a yelp of _human_ surprise when Aza’s blade swung wide, embedding several, terrifying ilms deep into the edge of the door that was just opened. He froze, half-blinded by the light pouring through the doorway and stared, bewildered, at the Ishgardian soldier half-cowering just past the door, staring at him with equal bewilderment.

Aza just… almost decapitated him. If he hadn’t caught the door…

“S-S-Ser Aza?” the knight stammered, cautiously straightening up when Aza stared at him dumbly, his blade still stuck in the door, “W-what… what… uh?”

Aza stirred out of whatever horrified realisation had gripped him, was dangerously aware of how his entire body was trembling with adrenaline and the _need_ to break something. Didn’t even know what expression he wore, but judging by how the soldier looked ready to _piss himself_ , probably not good. He glanced at his blade, saw how it had gotten stuck halfway through the wood. The knight would’ve been dead for sure.

“Sir?” the knight prompted nervously.

“I… I’m fine,” Aza said faintly, and with a hard yank, pulled his blade free. The knight flinched when the wood groaned in protest, splinters flying, and Aza stood there for a moment, trying to pull everything back into his brain and stuff it down. He needed… no, he needed to… go. Somewhere. Out of here.

“There’s a Voidsent, lingering around here,” he finally said, not even recognising his own voice, “Pulling tricks. Make sure to warn everyone of that.”

“Uh, yes. Sir. Yes, sir. I-I’ll tell everyone now, sir.”

The knight practically fled. Aza watched him go, his blade still held tight in his hand.

Behind him, something tittered – not _her_ , but something alien and malicious. He looked over his shoulder, but saw nothing but the ruined shrine, the shattered pieces of Halone scattered on the floor.

“I’m going to kill you,” he promised lowly, lifting his blade and pointing it aimlessly into the room, “Slowly. Understand that?”

The room did not answer him, but a cold wind blew in from nowhere was answer enough.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I didn't mean to."

“Launix, did you see where Ser Aza went?”

“What?” Launix lifted his head from where he’d been curiously prodding in an old weapons chest. Majority of the blades in there were rusted through and useless, but he thought they could be melted down and used for scrap, at the very least. “Ser Aza? Last I saw him he was in the hole.”

Ilsent stood at the doorway to the room with a frown. He looked troubled.

“He isn’t there,” he said, “I tossed down the rope and called out to him, but got no reply.”

“Well, he said he was exploring the passageways,” Launix said, suddenly feeling a little uneasy, “Perhaps he’s still off doing that.”

“It’s been two hours, Launix.”

It had? Gods, no wonder why his back was killing him, stooped over these broken belongings all afternoon. He pushed himself onto his feet with a sigh, feeling his lower back pop, and grumbled, “Fine, we’ll go look for him. I’m sure he’s fine, though. He’s the Warrior of Light, after all.”

“The Warrior of Light can’t fight against poor structural integrity,” Ilsent muttered, “What if there was a cave in?”

…okay, yes, that was more cause for concern there, Launix could admit.

“You’ve made your point,” he said, brushing his knees off and making towards his friend, “Alright, let’s fish him out of whatever rubble he’s trapped himself under.”

“Don’t even _joke_ ,” Ilsent shuddered.

They passed several rooms on their way back to the hole. He saw several fellow knights taking a break from the grim work, every one of them looking drained and exhausted, having to shift through belongings from long dead knights. Launix was lucky not to know anyone here, but for those like Ilsent? It must be hell, to stumble across a familiar face contorted into frozen agony, as one of those shambling, cold-blooded corpses.

They reached the hole, and Launix peered down, just to double check Aza had been thorough in his zombie extermination. The corpses littered the floor in various states of dismemberment – done in such a way that even if they did somehow live – er, ‘live’ for a zombie, that is – they wouldn’t be able to do much without means of walking or moving. It was eerily, terrifyingly silent and morbid.

“Ser Aza!” he called down into the hole, “Are you there, sir? We’ve returned with the rope!”

No answer.

“I’ve already tried to call him,” Ilsent told him, “He doesn’t reply.”

Launix felt a little nervous now but he was certain everything was fine. The Warrior of Light was a monster – if the likes of Zenos yae Galvus or Bahamut or _Nidhogg_ couldn’t kill him, then he doubted a creaky, crumbling vigil would do much to him.

“I bet he’s off gallivanting and forgot all about us,” Launix said with a confidence he did not feel. He straightened up from his crouch by the hole and moved to where Ilsent had secured the rope. “Stay up here, I’ll get him.”

“Be careful,” Ilsent called after him as he shimmied down and landed on the frozen, cracked tiling below. The air carried the stink of wet rot, and he swallowed thickly, finding the prone corpses surrounding him deeply unnerving. They were all covered in a thin layer of frost, pale blue webs of ice sticking to their armour, veins bright blue and stark against their pale skin. There was no blood either, he realised, where Aza had wounded them. Just… nothing but frozen meat.

He shook off his disturbed thoughts, scanning the room properly. Broken cotbeds, crumbling walls and… ah, a doorway, the door kicked in. He made for it, edging cautiously to the doorway and sticking his head out of it.

An ominously dark hallway greeted him.

“Ser Aza?” he called, frowning when his voice echoed oddly. It was oddly silent here. Where the vigil groaned and creaked as it settled around its half-collapsed fortifications, this area was just… utterly silent. No wind, no groaning, just nothing, but dark, impenetrable silence. Surely, Ser Aza didn’t wander down this creepy hallway? Right?

He was tempted to walk away, to tell Ilsent that he must’ve climbed out all on his own and forgotten about them, but, Gods, Aza was the Lord Commander’s bedmate. If he found out he abandoned him because of his own discomfort, and Aza was genuinely injured because of, of crumbling floors and the like, well, he may as well drown himself beneath Banepool’s ice, because the Lord Commander would not let him leave this place alive.

Gulping, he took a bold, quivering step forwards.

 

* * *

 

Aza had prodded and poked every corner of that damned room and turned up nothing.

The Voidsent – if it really was that – had apparently decided to leave him in suspense. The Echo was silent in its warnings, and the oppressive feeling of _wrongness_ that accompanied the Voidsent’s presence was gone. He was in a creepy, dark room, with the shattered remains of Halone at his feet, and a lot of bad, bad, bad thoughts in his head.

His mind kept flashing to those wide eyes – twenty years. Twenty years. And still, that memory felt as sharp and agonising as the day it happened. He had to stop at one point, had to crouch in the middle of that ruined, quiet room and press his hands against his face as he focused on his breathing. It was like a physical burn in his throat, and his mind kept skipping over those eyes, staring up at him, blank, incomprehensible-

 _Aza_.

He cursed viciously, launching himself to his feet and pacing agitatedly, flexing his fingers as the urge, the need, to rip something apart grew in him. Maybe that’s why the Voidsent had left – had known that his rage was at the point where it would eclipse any horror. He needed to kill them. He needed to _burn that memory out_ by crushing it under his foot.

He unsheathed his blade, held its weight in his hands for a long moment. It was steadying, comforting, the burn of exertion in his forearms and biceps, the pull against his shoulders – a good feeling. It made him restless, though, the darkness still oppressive, leaning down on him, taunting…

 _Aza_.

Her voice echoed in the back of his mind, that gurgled, pained- _SHUT UP._

He made a noise that could barely be called human, wildly swinging out, his blade smashing into the already half-broken door. It crunched loudly, and his arms burned when he wrenched at it violently, snarling when he realised it was fucking ­ _stuck_ -

His mind… he forgot the next few minutes, but by the end of it the door was in splinters, haphazardly hacked into chunks of half-frozen firewood. He was trembling, arms burning, scratches over his cheeks from flying splinters, and focused on breathing, breathing, breathing.

Motherfucker.

But his mind was quiet now. The wide, yellow eyes were a faint smear in his memory, the voice a distant whisper. It was good. Okay. The memory was… settled down. Okay.

“Okay, I’m okay. Okay,” he muttered, lifting his sword and lowering it, lifting and lowering, focusing on its very tip and finding it almost hypnotising. The movement soothed him. He did that until his forearms ached from the weight, and he let the blade list downwards, down, down, until the tip dug into the frozen stones, and his gaze blankly trailed the scattered piece of wood at his feet, his mind blissfully empty and blank.

He needed to keep that, he thought distantly. When the Voidsent came back, he needed this distance. If it couldn’t touch him emotionally, then he could advance and kill it. He _will_ kill it. He’ll crush it. He’ll break it.

A noise drew him out of his increasingly murderous thoughts. It came from beyond the doorway. He stared out at it, waiting, but nothing approached. There was just…

…?

It sounded like crying.

He kept his blade downwards, dragging it over the floor and ignoring the ear-wrenching screech of it scraping over the frozen stone. He walked unsteadily out of the doorway, looked to his left – nothing but a stairwell – and looked to his right-

A knight was curled up on the floor, in a tight little ball, letting out short, whimpering noises.

Oh.

It was Launix.

He stared somewhat stupidly for a moment – before some- some realisation kicked at him and he jolted, lifting his blade up in an abrupt defensive position, gaze sharpening as he took in the surroundings. A dark hallway but- normal dark, not, a Voidsent is about to mindfuck you dark. Still, he kept an eye out, slowly and cautiously advancing on the trembling form on the floor. He couldn’t see much – but Launix looked… his armour had bits of frost coating it, and his exposed hands were pale – alarmingly pale, and he would make odd, animal like groans between his shuddering sobs, but there was no blood, no weird bodily fluids, all in one piece.

Aza stopped just out of arm’s reach, his blade between them as the Echo stirred, a faint warning. Danger.

“Knight Launix?” he whispered, his voice oddly loud in the abruptly silent hallway.

Launix went quiet and fell still. Aza didn’t waver. He kept his blade pointed at him, kept his distance, could see a sort of darkness encroaching in the corner of his eyes, pressing in and making everything waver like a heatwave – fuck, was this even _happening_? Launix was left behind where… wherever Aza had been, not here, how did he… no, this was probably another mindfuck. This was…

Launix uncoiled, like a snake, and his pale, cloudy eyes stared up at him, lips blue. He tried to speak, but all that came out sounded distorted and distant, like he was speaking from underwater. Aza stared at him in dull surprise, the hallway feeling like it was swaying nauseatingly from side to side.

What the fuck.

“You’re-” he began, but Launix lunged upwards like starving animal. Aza – acted on instinct.

He ran Launix through like he was wet paper. His blade caved in his breastplate and slid right through, bright red blood spurting and Launix letting out a pained, wet gurgle of surprised agony, suddenly on his feet – wasn’t he, on the floor? What? – his brown eyes blinking rapidly up at him as the light slowly faded out of them and-

Oh fuck.

Aza stared, blank with horror, at Knight Launix gasping his last breaths on the end of his sword. He was bleeding bright red blood, his cheeks pale from horrified realisation of his impending death, brown eyes wide, and his armour covered in fine layer of faint masonry dust not _frost_ -

 _Oh fuck_.

“Whhrrr…wha…” Launix gurgled, sounding horribly confused, before – he sagged, his weight dragging Aza’s blade down. He let it, numb with awful, awful clarity as Launix just… slid off. With a wet thump. On the floor. He was still.

Aza dropped his sword without a thought, its metal clatter jarring in the empty hallway. He could see now – where Launix had stirred up the frost and dust on the floor – a side corridor where he had walked through. Aza had just. He had just.

Malicious laughter echoed around him, the shadows wavering in his peripheral vision. He felt like he was going to be sick. He had just. Just. Just.

 _Murderer~ Murderer~_ The shadows sang to him, _Once a murderer, always a murderer~ What would poor Aymeric say~?_

“You- you did that,” Aza gasped, unable to look away from the knight sprawled messily on the floor, the blood pooling underneath him, his breastplate a fucking _mess_ he had, shoved the blade right in, without hesitation, he hadn’t even- fuck, no, no no no! “You did that. You did that.”

 _It’s always someone else’s fault, isn’t it?_ The shadows crooned at him, _If only they didn’t make you kill them. If only._

He curled his hands into tight fists, held them, breathing in the thick, coppery scent of spilled blood and offal. He scanned his surroundings, expecting to see – nothing. The hallway was silent and dark, oppressive. Something scrabbled behind him.

 _Beast. Monster._ The scrabbling drew closer, the darkness closed in, the Voidsent – scented weakness. Aza felt everything inside of him flatten, hands relaxing as he slowly, calmly, bent down to pick up his bloodied blade, _Why try to be something you’re not? You are an engine of destruction. A beautiful, powerful monster. Let me show you your full potential, love…_

“I’m not that anymore,” Aza whispered into the dark, “Come near me and I’ll kill you. I’ll rip you apart, piece by piece, you _fuck_.”

 _Like him? Oh, I wouldn’t have it any other way. But, remember, I have **leverage**_.

Aza tightened his grip on his blade, waited – but the Voidsent said no more. The oppressive darkness lightened, until it was just him and Launix dead at his feet. Sadly, that wasn’t a Voidsent illusion, like he’d hoped. He stared at it in open dismay.

He… fuck.

Just _fuck_.

 

* * *

 

The Lord Commander’s chambers in Dusk Vigil was even more disturbing than the room with the dead Oliphant.

The floors and walls were covered in thick, murky ice, the air sharp with an unnatural coldness that just pulled the warmth right out of you. Several knights were huddled together, looking miserable and perturbed, occasionally glancing over at the morbid line of corpses stacked next to the far wall. Someone had gone ot the effort of scrounging some intact cloth to drape over the bodies, but everyone knew that the frozen, cursed corpses of their fellow knights lingered beneath them.

“This place is cursed, sir,” the squad’s captain, Atrex, muttered, “Knights have been complaining of voices in the walls, something evil watching them… superstitions, most likely, but it’s sucking the morale right out of them.”

“We need to show we’ve made an honest effort to reclaim the vigil,” Aymeric sighed, in full agreement with Captain Atrex, “We will give it a day, perhaps two, before I declare it a lost cause. I share your thoughts that there’s something… ill, here.”

Atrex nodded, looking visibly perturbed, gazing out over the hall, “I think I’ll move us into a different room. This place… I think Ser Yuhelmeric’s cursed body resided in here too long. Its like his bitterness has soaked into the stone.”

Aymeric was about to nod his agreement when a knight darted into the hall in a full fluster. He yelped as he slipped over the ice, drawing some looks, but he ignored them all as he made a beeline for Atrex and Aymeic.

“Sir! Er, Lord Commander!” the knight hurriedly correctly, only just realising Aymeric was there, “Dire news! The- the Warrior of Light says this place is infested with a Voidsent!”

“What?” Atrex barked, “A _Voidsent?_ What kind? What sort?”

“I-I don’t know…” The knight wilted a little, looking anxious, “I… Ser Aza, um… he, he wasn’t forthcoming?”

Aymeric frowned at him, detecting dishonesty when the knight shuffled in place. He looked pale and drawn, though, as if he had just encountered something disturbing. “Knight…Treaufant, is it?”

“Sir!” Treaufant barked, straightening up on instinct. He swallowed nervously when Aymeric levelled him with a firm stare.

“Aza is not normally vague when it comes to threats,” Aymeric told him mildly.

“I…” Treaufant licked his lips nervously, before admitting; “I-I ran away, sir. I… Ser Aza… I-I startled him, and, he very nearly… took my head off…”

Aymeric and Atrex frowned and exchanged confused looks.

“I’m sorry, he… almost took your head off?” Aymeric asked.

“I barged into a room he was in, sir,” Treaufant said quietly, “I must have surprised him, for he swung at me before I even realised he was in the room. Luckily the door took the brunt of his swing, saving me from, um, decapitation, sir.”

Aza was rarely, if ever, ‘surprised’. Not enough to take a wild swing at an ally. Aymeric knew it had something to do with his gift of the Echo, that it offered him some kind of pre-cognitive ability almost. Unless he had been occupied with something, like this Voidsent…

“I see… I’m sure it was a misunderstanding,” Aymeric said after a pause, “Where did you leave him?”

“In the garrison, sir,” the knight said quickly, “He was in one of the recreational chapels.”

Odd. That wasn’t where he was meant to be right now. Wasn’t he supposed to be making his way towards the main chapel? To see if any other Griffins had settled here?

“Hmm…” Atrex seemed to be of a similar mind, “He’s not meant to be there.”

Treaufant just looked at him with an expression of confusion – clearly, he had no idea why Aza was there. Aymeric had… a bad feeling about this.

“I’ll check on him,” he decided.

“By yourself?” Atrex asked doubtfully, “If there’s a Voidsent about, wandering on your own is dangerous, Lord Commander. The vigil is also structurally unsounds and prone to cave ins.”

“I’ll be fine,” Aymeric said. “The garrison isn’t far from here, and there are plenty of soldiers between here and there.”

Atrex hummed doubtfully, but didn’t argue the point. Luckily, he wasn’t Lucia, who would have simply stared him down until he agreed to take a small escort of soldiers. Aymeric would be fine on his own here. This area had been thoroughly cleared for hostiles already.

Aymeric excused himself, and left towards the garrison. The vigil felt a few degrees warmer when he left that frozen room, and he rolled his shoulders a few times as he passed several rooms and groups of soldiers, all mournfully picking through frozen corpses and rotting containers for anything useful. Atrex was right, this place was sucking the moral out of everyone.

It took a bit of wandering, and asking of directions from a pair of knights, but Aymeric finally located the stairwell that would take him to the recreational chapel. He descended the steps, frowning at how dim it was down here, and stepped into the corridor. He paused when he saw a figure, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the gloom-

“Aza?”

Aza was standing with his back to him, a little further down the hallway, and didn’t stir at the sound of his name. He had his sword in hand, listlessly drifting towards the ground – at his feet was a dark lump. The bad feeling in his belly grew, and Aymeric cautiously advanced, swallowing when the powerful tang of copper hit the back of his throat.

“Aza…?” he half-whispered once he was closer, close enough to see – that the dark lump was a knight. Knight Launix, if he recalled, with his entire breastplate caved in and lying in a puddle of his blood. Judging by the vividness of it all, he hadn’t been dead for long.

Aza half-turned and looked at him. There was a thin line of blood over the bridge of his nose – and all down the front of his breastplate, large splatters of it, like he had been right there when Launix had been run through and had caught all the arterial spray, his blade coated and his eyes terrifyingly distant. He stared right through him.

“I didn’t mean to,” he said blankly.

It was a scene as damning as it was horrifying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup. 
> 
> i did that. 
> 
> ha 
> 
> hahahahaha


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Love makes you blind to so many sins,_ the shadows purred at them, _And, my dear Aymeric, you are so very blind._

Aymeric could not think of a logical explanation he would like for this scene.

Knight Launix was clearly very dead, he thought blankly, and Aza was very much covered in blood that wasn’t his own. Knight Treaufant too, said Aza almost took his head off, and… oh, please, let this not be what he thought it was.

“What…  is this?” Aymeric asked, still too stunned to properly question the scene before him. The logical conclusion was there, ready to be thought but, no, there was no way Aza had _attacked_ one of his knights and slain him in cold blood. The thought of it – made his pulse jump, his stomach twisting uncomfortably. He didn’t want to think…

“I didn’t…” Aza began, a soft tapping noise ringing out when his blade dipped a little more, its edge striking the frozen floor. He looked half a second away from dropping it, “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Aymeric’s voice sounded strained even to his ears, and he looked down at Knight Launix – his chest caved in – and back up to Aza, who was staring at him like he wasn’t quite sure where he was, covered in blood, “You-”

“I thought he was an enemy,” Aza continued, his gaze dropping down to Knight Launix, “I… he _was_ an enemy, but then, he wasn’t.”

Well, that made terrifyingly _little sense_. Aymeric had to take a few breaths, had to force himself to act calmly, and boldly took a step closer. Aza flinched, his blade scraping against the floor when the tip jerked up a few ilms – Aymeric paused, not liking the sudden, wild look in Aza’s expression.

“Aza?”

“No,” Aza said, “You- you need to stay away.”

Aymeric did not back away – but he stopped advancing. He stayed just out of arm’s reach, his heart fluttering a rapid pace against his ribs when he realised he couldn’t… quite predict how Aza was going to act. He could count on one hand the amount of times he had ever encountered Aza in this state, and each time was terrifying, and _this time_ was the _worst_ it had ever been. He kept his hands opened and relaxed at his side, in full view, tried not to look visibly upset in any way. Calm. He needed to remain calm for both of them.

“Why do I need to stay away?” he asked, his gaze dropping down to where Aza had a white-knuckled grip on his sword. One-handed, and the weight of his greatsword meant that his swings would be sluggish and lacking momentum if he only used that one hand – Aymeric could potentially disarm him, if things got to that point.

“I might…hurt…”

“You won’t hurt me,” Aymeric told him, keeping his tone low and soft. He took another short, tiny step. Aza’s tail lashed agitatedly, but he didn’t move, “I trust you.”

“I hurt him,” Aza muttered, but his blade was listing downwards again, his grip relaxing.

Aymeric was in arm’s reach now. This close, he could see there were fine scratches on Aza’s face, dark bruising underneath his eyes – he looked unwell, unfocused. He slowly reached out, telegraphing his movements.

“But you said you didn’t mean to,” Aymeric told him, his heart pounding as his hand closed over the hilt of Aza’s blade, relieved when he wasn’t stabbed for his troubles.

Aza was still, watching him with an unreadable look.

“I didn’t…”

“Then,” Aymeric tugged – Aza resisted briefly but ultimately gave in. The blade was terribly heavy, and it scraped dully against the floor as he pulled it away from Aza’s grip and kept a firm hold of it, but he tolerated the discomforting weight, “You won’t hurt me. See?”

Aza let out a shuddering breath, looking down at his now empty hands. They were shaking violently, flecks of blood staining the back of his gloves as he slowly flexed his fingers. Some of that dazed blankness was beginning to fade from his expression now, replaced by something like slow, dawning horror.

“Fuck,” Aza forced out, his voice breathlessly strained.

“Just stay calm,” Aymeric told him warily, aware that his words were stupid but desperate to keep Aza in this state of… somewhat docility. This was going to be a mess to sort out – if, if Aza had killed Knight Launix, then Aymeric could not allow him anywhere near a weapon until the matter had been dealt with. He suspected the Voidsent was involved, though – Gods, he _prayed_ this was the Voidsent’s fault.

“I _knew_ something wasn’t right,” Aza muttered, seemingly not hearing Aymeric. He curled his fingers tight, his fists trembling as his eyes stayed on Launix’s sprawled form, “I knew, and- but I thought he was attacking me so I just- I acted. Fuck. _Fuck_.”

“Aza-”

“It’s right, it’s right,” he continued to mutter, though Aymeric wasn’t sure who he was speaking to now, “But I don’t want to… be that… I need to…”

Aymeric touched his arm – tried not to feel hurt when Aza flinched away from the touch. He kept his hand open, palm up, but didn’t reach out again as Aza shied away from him, “Aza, you need to focus. You told Knight Traufant that there was a Voidsent. Is that who did… this?”

“Who?” Aza’s voice was brittle, “Who’s Trau- oh, the knight that- yeah. Yeah, it…” he seemed to give himself a bit of a shake, gaze focusing a little as he ran a shaking hand through his hair. It was threatening to spill loose from his messy braid, “It fucks with your head. It made me see- things. Gets right in your head. I think.”

Lovely, Aymeric thought darkly, just what they needed.

“Right. Then the situation is worse than I thought,” Aymeric said. He glanced down at Launix. He couldn’t take his body with them for the moment – for one, Aymeric wanted to keep hold of Aza’s sword, and making Aza carry the body of the man he had mistakenly killed would not do wonders for his already fragile mental state. As much as it pained him, they would have to collect Knight Launix at a later date, hopefully when the Voidsent was dealt with.

“We’ll go back to the squad,” Aymeric told him, “And prepare to deal with the Voidsent. Can you walk?”

“What about… Launix?”

Aza sounded gutted, and though he tilted his head down, as if to look, his gaze skittered away from the body. He looked like he was going to be ill.

“We will have to collect him later,” Aymeric told him regretfully, and reached out a little. He didn’t touch Aza though, just kept his hand out invitingly, “Take my hand?”

Aza hesitated, and Aymeric could not decipher his thoughts as he looked from his hand to the body and back again. But, eventually, Aza slowly reached out and took it, his grip strong. With a bit of effort, Aymeric swung the greatsword so it rested on his shoulder, its weight unfamiliar and uncomfortable. As much as he disliked doubting Aza, in his current mental state… no, best for Aymeric to keep a hold of this right now. If the Voidsent had taken such a pointed, malicious interest in him… last thing he wanted was it to trick Aza into attacking _him_.

“You’re going to see the chirugeon when we get back,” Aymeric said, gently tugging him along as they left Launix behind and headed for the stairwell. He kept a keen eye on their surroundings, half-expecting the Voidsent to leap out of the shadows at any moment.

“I’m not-”

“It’s non-negotiable,” Aymeric told him firmly, relieved when Aza looked a little mulish. He seemed more like his old self, even if it was a pale comparison, “You’re lucid now, but we don’t know what the Voidsent has done to you. Please, do it for me?”

Aza’s gaze lowered, shame crossing his face, “…okay.”

They started up the stairs, and Aza seemed to relax by scant hairbreadths with each step they took. Aymeric felt the opposite – the longer nothing happened, the more he felt anxious. There was a quiet, snide voice in the back of his mind that considered it was all an elaborate delusion Aza’s ‘condition’ conjured up. Aymeric was painfully aware of Aza’s troubles, of his… temperamental mental state – but, no, as his partner told him repeatedly, he was _functional_. He would never slip up and lose control without some outside influence pressuring him. Aymeric… wanted to have faith in that. He _needed_ to have faith that this was a terrible tragedy whose fault could be lain at the feet of a manipulative Voidsent.

The corridor was empty when they stepped out onto it. Captain Atrex must have recalled the knights as he said he would. Aymeric quickened his pace slightly, eager to return to the safety of numbers when-

He couldn’t quite describe the sensation. It was as if he stepped into an ice-cold river, the ambient temperature dropping so sharply it almost knocked the air right out of him. He came to abrupt halt, Aza gripping his hand tight enough that he was losing circulation in his fingers as the light of the hallway seemed to dim, the colour leeching out slowly in smears of grey.

“Aymeric?” Aza whispered to him, sounding uneasy, “What’s wrong?”

What’s wrong? Aymeric gave his head a sharp shake – it felt like literal cobwebs clinging inside his skull. The cold feeling was still there, almost prodding, but he forced himself to ignore it, Aza’s hand a painfully strong anchor to… reality, he supposed. The darkness was almost like an opaque shroud, crawling over them, and Aza made an abrupt, cut-off noise, digging his fingers right into his hand.

_Love makes you blind to so many sins,_ the shadows purred at them, _And, my dear Aymeric, you are so very blind._

The voice was alien and somehow carried the physical sensation of oiliness to it. Aymeric felt an odd flare of relief – there _was_ a Voidsent then, thank fucking Halone.

On the other hand, there was a _Voidsent_ , Fury damn it.

Aza hissed angrily at his side, “ _You_. Why don’t you show yourse-”

_So, you can kill me?_ The darkness pressed in harder, the cold becoming so biting it was making even him shiver – but he fought against it, tugged Aza closer against his side, tightened his grip on the unfamiliar blade resting against his shoulder… whatever trickery this thing tried… _Such a predictable response from a mindless murderer~_

“You tricked him into killing Knight Launix,” Aymeric snapped, feeling Aza stiffen next to him, as if he’d been dealt a physical blow.

_Who? Oh, him… hahaha, I’m not talking about **him**_.

Aymeric frowned, puzzled. What could they – the uncomfortable truth was Aza had killed many people, but it was normally due to his duty as the Warrior of Light, a Scion, or in plain self-defence. Thordan flickered to the forefront of him mind, almost as if something pulled it there, but he angrily dismissed it. Whatever his own irrational thoughts on _that_ matter, logically, Aymeric knew that death was necessary. Thordan would have enthralled the entirety of Ishgard is left unopposed.

_Let’s see… I suppose you never told him about **that** , did you?_

“Don’t,” Aza whispered. He sounded afraid.

Childish laughter echoed around then, high and mocking. Something scrabbled behind them, loud and threatening, but when Aymeric chanced a quick glance over his shoulder, nothing but darkness greeted him. It was beginning to feel suffocating – the cold was pressing right into his lungs, almost needle sharp with each inhale – Aza was quivering beside him, his eyes flickering around them as if the Voidsent would morph out of the shadows at any moment, strange glints of red flashing in his irises.

_Not to worry… I don’t speak of others’ secrets…_ the shadows purred, and slowly, the darkness seemed to recede, colour spilling back into their surroundings and the cold peeling away. Aymeric found he could breathe again without feeling like needles were being shoved down his throat, **_Showing them_** _, on the other hand…_

The Voidsent chuckled, low and alien, and with a cold gust – it was gone. A frozen, half-crumbled hallway lay before them, the frost on the ground scraped up from the previous foot traffic. The shadows in the corners looked normal, and as Aymeric slowly looked around, his heart frantically pounding in his chest, it didn’t seem like any kind of trap had been set during their… moment.

“Well,” he finally said, sounding disturbed despite his best efforts, “I never felt so menaced by a dark hallway before.”

Aza didn’t say anything – not even a nervous laugh like he’d hoped. He was gazing straight ahead, fixedly, his expression utterly blank from emotion. Aymeric cautiously jostled him.

“Aza?”

“It’s right,” he said distantly, “About me.”

Aymeric paused, uneasiness curling in his gut. Murderer, the Voidsent called him, but – there was a difference, between killing someone for duty, and killing someone out of malicious reasons. The fact was though, as he was uncomfortably aware, that he knew very _little_ about Aza prior to him coming to Eorzea. Any attempt to broach the subject had him changing the subject or growing quiet. There was a possibility that before, he might’ve…

No. No, this was the Voidsent trying to make him doubt – twisting things and taking advantage of Aza’s… mental state. He shouldn’t even consider its words to be even vaguely true.

“Does it matter, right now?” Aymeric asked him, “Whatever it’s alluding to… it’s in your distant past, correct?”

“It matters,” Aza ducked his head, drawing in a sharp breath, “It _matters_ , Aymeric. You don’t know… before Eorzea. I was…”

Aza trailed off. Aymeric waited until it was clear he wouldn’t continue.

“What were you?” he asked, softly.

Aza stared at his feet for a very long moment, before lifting his head and staring fixedly down the hallway.

“…we should probably keep going, before it decides to come back,” he said, avoiding looking at Aymeric entirely.

Aymeric let it go. He found himself relieved, actually. He… didn’t want to know, right now. If Aza was… well, best not to have _that_ conversation in a hallway haunted by a malicious Voidsent. He squeezed Aza’s hand, tugging him along as they continued towards the Lord Commander’s chambers.

They were left unmolested for the rest of the way, even if Aza was worryingly quiet, and something distantly, and slowly, scrabbled after them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that feel of "oh thank god my lover hasn't gone completely homicidal insane and murdered my knight in cold blood but also fucking shit there is a voidsent haunting us god damn".
> 
> i mean, if aym can forgive nidstinien burninating the brume and burninating all the peoples, he can sort of understand the whole aza stabbing launix thing while being horrified as fuck about it. but. we'll see what happens in regards to everything else that'll come to light soon... 
> 
> i've also got the flu right now so if this is all jumbled and weird and kind of shit pls blame the flu medicine bc i am rocking off of it dear lord. 
> 
> please comment/kudos if you liked plsssssss


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You _drugged_ me."

Allert sighed as he propped his feet on the crate of potions, feeling a weariness he hadn’t felt since the days of the Dragonsong War. Dusk Vigil was a terrible place – and not because of the grim work of digging up frozen corpses either, this place was a _death trap_. In one day he’d treated several soldiers for concussions and sprained wrists and ankles from them slipping and sliding all over the place. You’d think they would learn to steps more carefully, but no. Bunch of muppets, the lot of them.

He leaned back in his makeshift ‘chair’ (a pile of crates arranged in a way for him to lie supine behind his ‘chirugeon curtain’), intent on taking a quick nap when the hall past his curtain suddenly erupted into activity. People started stomping around and talking loudly, and the Lord Commander could be heard snapping out commands in a… very pissed off way, oh dear. Who shat in his biscuits?

Curiously, Allert slid his feet off his crate and sat up – just in time for his curtain to be pulled aside in one aggressive motion. He froze almost comically, staring at the sight of the Lord Commander and his thunderous expression dragging in a dazed and blood-splattered Warrior of Light.

“Look after him,” Aymeric ordered, frog-marching Aza into his little medic bay he carved out in the corner of this frozen hall and shoving him onto the one cot he had set up. “Check for… something.”

And with that, Aymeric left without so much as an explanation, wrenching the curtain closed behind him and shouting again. Allert stared in mild surprise – he hadn’t seen him that furious in a long while.

“Hm,” Allert turned to his new patient, taking in the way Aza sat on the edge of the cot staring at his hands. Instantly, he could tell there was something wrong. Well, the blood was a dead giveaway, but considering he wasn’t spurting it out of any holes, Allert could be content that it wasn’t _his_ at least, but the distant, blank stare was something Allert was uncomfortably familiar with, “So, what trouble did you get up to to make ‘im so pissy?”

“…”

Aza’s gaze shifted a fraction, peeking up at him from beneath his thick eyelashes. He looked awful. His skin had taken on a sickly pallor, dark bruising beneath his dull eyes, with thin, scabbed over scratches over his cheeks. There was a streak of blood too, dried over the bridge of his nose. He didn’t seem to either notice or care.

“Right,” Allert blew out a sharp breath, pushing up from his crate and moving over. Aza watched his every move, reminding him of a cornered dog waiting to bite the hand that moved a little too quickly, too close.  So, he made sure to move slowly, snagging up a bottle from one of his open crates. An unusual concoction to use outside of surgeries but… he had a feeling it was needed.

“You look fine, physically,” he said, keeping his tone casual as he looked him over critically, standing just out of reach. He recognised that distant, flat stare – saw it in many knights who endured too many assaults on the bridge, or out in the frontier. Dragon-Shock. No potion he had would cure that ailment, but he had a few tricks to manage the symptoms when they reached this stage.

“Aetherically… hm, somethin' messed you up,” he said, stepping within reach. Aza tensed, but Allert remained still until his muscles relaxed. He slowly extended his hand holding the potion, “You’ve got the beginnin’ of aether sickness about you, lad. Chug this here elixir.”

Aza turned his head away, “…I’m fine.”

“Like fuck you are,” Allert said flatly, “Now drink this, or I’ll get some of the lads t’sit on you so I can force it down your damn throat.”

Aza looked back at him, dark anger flickering across his face – but Allert stared at him, utterly unimpressed, holding the bottle out until he was almost shoving the damn thing in the stubborn idiot’s face. With a mutter, Aza took the potion, uncorking it with sharp, jerky movements.

“Drink all of it,” Allert told him, staring him down so he didn’t try the ol’ tossing it on the floor tactic.

Aza looked tempted to do it under his watchful eye anyway, but he knew Allert would make good on his threat. So, he looked down at the neck of the bottle, sniffing it suspiciously, “This doesn’t smell like elixir,” he said warily.

“It’s a special, Ishgardian kind,” Allert said, “We use ‘em for overworked chirugeons like me so we don’t topple over dead when healin’ the entire damn Holy See during a dragon attack.”

Aza seemed to accept this – Allert had always been upfront with whatever he fed him – and after another long moment of staring down into the bottle, chugged it in one go. He made a short, spluttering noise, no doubt caught off guard by the alcoholic burn of it, and Allert swiftly snatched the bottle from his hand while he was distracted.

“W-What was…” Aza coughed – and suddenly wobbled, his expression turning comically confused, “Was… tha…t…?”

_‘FWMPTH’_

Allert watched as the Warrior of Light toppled sideways, landing heavily on the cot in a dead faint. Hm. Shit. He gave him a dose for an _Elezen_ , not a Miqo’te. May have overdone it there. 

“Sorry, lad,” Allert told him, setting the bottle down on the crate and moving over to adjust him into a more comfortable position on the cot, “Tranqin’ you seemed like the best option. Dragon-Shock’s nasty business. Don’t need you hurtin’ yourself or anyone in one of them messed up fits.”

Though, judging by the blood on him and Aymeric’s fury, he may have already fucked someone over. Strange then, that he hadn’t had anyone else as a patient for bloodloss, since that looked to be a fatal amount of blood.

… 

The alternative didn’t bare thinking about, so Allert didn’t. He stared down at the unconscious Warrior of Light, before turning away with a heavy sigh. Some things were just incurable.

 

* * *

 

 

“Knight Launix has perished.”

Captain Atrex bowed his head briefly at the news, his face pulling into a grimace, “Grim news… he was a good knight.”

Aymeric nodded distractedly, watching the soldiers in the hall making the necessary preparations. While he would have liked it to be preparations to leave, he knew that the Holy See would not want them to abandon the vigil because of a Voidsent presence. If anything they would want it purged from the area, since once they sunk their claws in they were downright impossible to remove. Ishgard would like to avoid another Dzemael Darkhold.

“I’m supposing it was the Voidsent?” Captain Atrex asked mildly, but his eyes were shrewd. No one had missed Aza’s appearance when they returned.

Aymeric lowered his gaze, taking in a slow breath. He had debated his moral dilemma whilst returning with Aza, and the fact was… “In a way. Aza… dealt the killing blow, under the Voidsent’s influence. He has shaken its hold, but the ordeal has been… taxing on him. Medic Allert is tending to him now.”

“By the Fury,” Atrex whispered, “How are we meant to fight such a creature, one that could subvert the Warrior of Light himself?”

“That is the question,” Aymeric said wryly, “I’m under no illusion that our chances are slim, but the Voidsent has already made its interest known. I doubt it would let us peacefully retreat from the vigil without bloodshed.”

Atrex muttered an oath, grimly casting an eye over the knights in the hall. Their forces were small, but neither did Aymeric want to call upon the main force still waiting at the entrance of the vigil. While there was safety in numbers, Aymeric was leery of offering so many warm bodies to a Voidsent no doubt starving from years of isolation. If it could distort perceptions and cast illusions… they could end up with a mob turning on each other, and in the tight, crumbling confines of Dusk Vigil, too many bodies would be a hindrance, than an advantage.                                                                            

“Are the exorcists prepared?” Aymeric asked after a heavy silence.

“Yes, sir,” Captain Atrex said, “We only have a handful of them, but they should give us an edge over this Voidsent, Halone willing.”

Well then, all that was left to do was wait. Though Aymeric found himself uneasy as to what awaited them. The Voidsent had promised to ‘show him’ whatever secrets Aza held, but Aymeric was determined to ignore whatever visions and illusions the creature would send his way. Its motivations were suspect, and Aymeric refused to allow it to twist his perceptions of his partner in any way. Once this was over, he’ll sit Aza down and question him, but for now…

“Ensure that everything is prepared within the hour,” Aymeric told Atrex, “I want the Voidsent banished before night has fallen.”

“Yes, sir!” 

For now, they had a Voidsent to exorcise.

 

* * *

 

 

“Azaaaaa~ _Aza_! C’mon! Wake up, sleepyhead!”

Aza grunted when small hands patted insistently on his shoulder, curling away from the touch and flicking his tail at them, grumbling; “G’way…”

“It’s almost nighttime!” The young voice huffed, but they stopped prodding him. A small body shuffled close against his back, and he could _feel_ them leaning over him, closer and closer until he could feel their warm breath on his ear. He pulled a face, shuddering at the uncomfortable sensation when-

_‘CHOMP!’_

“ ** _OW!_** ”

Laughing, his assailant quickly rolled away as he sat upright, gripping his poor, abused ear. Oh, that _smarted_. She didn’t even bother holding back!

On the edge of his bed, where his blankets transitioned into the smooth, wooden flooring of home, Ala grinned cheekily up at him. Her brown hair was a mess, as always, like some sort of bird had made a nest there, her small ears barely seen in the wild snarls, “You’re such a _baby_ , Aza,” she giggled at him, “With sensitive eeeaaars~”

“Shut up, you lil’ brat,” he grumbled, swiping lazily at her. She rolled away, cackling like a hyena, and he watched her tiredly as she rolled around on his floor. Ugh, where did she even get the energy, honestly…

“Shouldn’t you be bothering mom?” he half-yawned, finally crawling out of bed. He kicked his blanket nest into some semblance of order, slowly stretching his arms high above his head. Ala slowly rolled to a stop at his feet, and promptly attached himself to his shin like some kind sloth. He eyed her warily.

“Mom told me to wake you up!” she chirped, smiling up at him, yellow eyes glittering happily, “She says she’s ‘busy’, so you can take me out for my hunting lesson!”

“Urgh, seriously…” Aza hated hunting lessons. He died of boredom each time, watching Ala stumble and fumble her way after the local wildlife. She was only ten summers, so he supposed she was meant to be bad at it, but still. He’d rather go through his archery drills. “Hey, how about we slack off today?”

Ala just looked at him, not saying a word.

“…fine,” he lifted his leg, shaking it about. Ala shrieked with laughter, clinging tighter as he swung her around, almost overbalancing a few times. He found himself smiling too, staggering over to his hunting gear like a drunk, “Geeze, Ala, you’re getting _heavy_ ~”

“I am not!” Ala instantly protested, her cheeks flushed with happiness, “You’re just getting lame!”

“Lame! Rude! You’re so mean to your big brother~”

“It’s the truth,” Ala said primly, letting go once he reached his archery gear. She sat at his feet, watching him get changed, her tail lifted in curiosity, “So, so, so, what’re we hunting today?”

“Let’s go for rabbits,” Aza hummed, clasping on his vambraces, “I could go for some rabbit stew tonight.”

Ala cheered – rabbit stew was her favourite. He supposed he was spoiling her a little, but, it _was_ her Nameday today. That’s why Mom had probably kicked her off onto him – keep her busy while she got the house ready for the celebration. He huffed fondly, picking up his bow and quiver, slinging both to his back.

“Alright, you ready, Ala?”

“Ready!”

Ala scrambled onto her feet and darted out of his room before he could even move, and he chuckled quietly at her enthusiasm. She was going to be a force of nature when she was older – and hopefully a lot better at hunting. It’d be nice to have a helping hand dragging game home.

“Remember your bow this time!” he called, striding out of his room, “Hard to shoot arrows without one!”

“I did that once!” his sister yelled from down the hallway, from her own room.

“And I’m never letting you forget it!”

“Meanie!”

Aza laughed, and started down the stairs. Except, things slowly grew darker and darker as he descended them, stretching further than the ten steps they normally were. Then he was on solid ground, in the woods at nighttime, the moon shining high and full above him.

The trees looked taller than he remembered, and he looked down at his hands, seeing them small and only pitted with the scars that came from years of archery training. He felt like they should be bigger, older, but… his head felt full of fog, and he continued walking, the trees leaning in closer the deeper in the woods he walked.

He felt like he was… forgetting something. Something?

The shadows between the trees looked opaque, and something growled beyond them, deep and hungry. The trees loomed, crushing down, the moon glaring bright and red, and his head spun, foggy, vertigo hitting him, and he staggered, into the shadows-

Someone grabbed the scruff of his neck, sharp nails digging into the skin and hauling him back. The pain jolted him back- pain?

“You _idiot_!” Fray was snarling, inches from his face, eyes bright red and frightened, “What the hell are you doing? I had to do a battle to the death when I wanted your body, but this one you just tumble into its open arms?”

“What?” Aza slurred, his head still spinning. Fray growled, grabbing his cheeks, digging his nails right into the skin and pulling him until they were nose to nose. He looked awful, pale, sickly, and Aza sluggishly realised that he was weirdly taller than him. But he _was_ him? The hell?

“The mind’s a fucked up thing,” Fray told him, still nose-to-nose. His eyes burned like coals. They hurt. His head hurt, “Now, wake the fuck up before you stab Allert.”

 _“What_!?”

He woke up.

He woke up half out of bed and feeling like someone had rammed a pickaxe into the back of his skull. He stayed like that for a full minute, staring blankly at where he’d half slid off the bed, oddly stable even though this… wasn’t a position one just rolled into. He’d actually stood up in his sleep? Weird…

Allert was lying supine on a pile of crates, snoring away with a book over his face. Vulnerable.

Aza… slowly sat back down on the bed, his hands shaking. His mind felt muddled, murky, but Fray’s words echoed in him. Fray…

He prodded inwards, but Fray didn’t answer. There was nothing there – but something didn’t feel right. Why did he feel so _tired_? He felt drained, like he’d spent the past day just churning out dark aether or abusing the hell out of Living Dead. Wasn’t he supposed to feel _better_ after sleeping? He ran a hand over his face, grimacing when he realised his braid had come undone, his hair an awful rat’s nest from… hm, he must’ve been tossing and turning in his sleep.

It was quiet, he realised. Too quiet. This hall should be full of soldiers but there was… nothing.

Pushing himself up onto unsteady legs, he tiptoed to the curtain and pulled it back. Majority of the soldiers were gone, as well as Aymeric and that Captain Atrex. There were a line of frozen corpses stacked against the far wall, and a small group of knights sitting around a small table by the hall’s double doors. Sentries. The hall was managed by a skeleton crew of about twelve knights, plus himself and Allert.

Aza let the curtain drop, disquieted. Where was everyone?

“You're awake,” Allert’s rough voice muttered, making him jump, “Thought that tranquilliser would’ve kept you out for longer.”

Aza spun around – and instantly regretted it when everything sloshed nauseously. He grimaced, wobbling on his feet, before he steadied himself with a sharp inhale, squinting an angry glare on a grim looking Allert.

“You _drugged me_.”

“Sorry, lad,” Allert said insincerely, “But you were in a right state. It was kinder than lettin’ you continue in that queer fit of yours.”

Aza clenched his fist, told himself that punching out the Chirugeon just after he stabbed someone- his stomach dropped at that memory. He looked down at his feet, wrestling the unpleasant, needle-sharp feeling down.

“…where’s Aymeric?” he asked with impressive calm.

“Off fightin’ that Voidsent,” Allert said, watching him warily, “He gave me explicit orders t’make sure you stayed put. No weapon handlin’ until we’re sure that Voidsents got its claws outta you.”

Indignation churned deep in his belly, but he couldn’t… fault… Aymeric for that. He had killed one of his knights – fuck, he had _killed one of his knights_. He should count his blessings that he hadn’t been locked up as a precaution, shackled until one of the Ishgardian Exorcists looked at him. Except… Aymeric was out there, alone, fighting the Voidsent. What if it…

“I know that look,” Allert said tiredly, “You’re gong to do somethin’ stupid.”

“I need to help him,” Aza said firmly, “That Voidsent… it could hurt him.”

“Aza,” Allert said, “ _You_ can hurt him.”

Aza flinched.

“The Lord Commander told me what happened,” Allert said quietly, “Now, it’s… no one fully blames you for it. It happens. Voidsent are fuckers like that. But right now you’re a _liability_. We’ve no idea if that thing can trigger another attack in you or trick you into turnin’ your blade on the Lord Commander. Could you endure that? Attackin’ him?”

The answer was no. Aza felt sick at the thought. Imagined, what happened with Launix with Ayme- no. His brain rejected the mental image outright. Refused to even consider it. No. No.

“Exactly,” Allert said, “So, stay here and rest up. The Lord Commander ain’t a weaklin’, and he’s got all them soldiers and exorcists helpin’ him. He’ll be back by dawn, and then you two can kiss and make up.”

Aza wished he could do that, but the thought of sitting on that cot, waiting for Aymeric to come back whilst knowing he was in danger… what if he got over his head? What if the Voidsent tricked him? What if his men turned on him? What if the Voidsent _possessed_ him? What if-

“I’ll drug you again,” Allert warned flatly.

“I’m going,” Aza told him, stubbornly, breathless with panic, “I need to. I _have_ to.”

Allert groaned, “C’mon, I don’t wanna fight you…”

“Then come with me,” Aza said frantically, “Come with me and- and hit me over the head if I go crazy!”

“Hit you- boy, you _high_?! I’m jus’ a medic! I can’t take you on in mortal combat!”

“I won’t carry a weapon!”

“Then what’s the point in you goin’?!”

“I can take on a Voidsent with my hands tied behind my back and blindfolded!”

“Then what hope have _I_ got?!”

“Argh!” Aza threw up his hands in frustration, “Allert! Please!”

“No,” Allert told him firmly, “I’m not gonna encourage your insanity. Now, get on the damn cot and stay there.”

Aza hissed at him, but Allert stared at him, unmoving. Aza _could_ just walk away, but… no doubt Allert would yell at the knights on sentry, and while Aza was good, even he had doubts he could take on twelve determined knights whilst unarmed and still kind of half-drugged, judging by his wobbliness.

“Fine,” he spat, stomping over to the bed in a full blown childish sulk. He sat down heavily on the edge, crossing his arms and frowning fiercely, “But if Aymeric dies or gets possessed or something, I’ll haunt you forever.”

“You already haunt me forever in my medbay,” Allert grumbled under his breath, picking up his book and burying his face into it in a clear dismissal.

Aza sneered at him, but turned his glare on the curtains instead. What was he going to do…? He needed to get out of here. But how…?

As he pondered this dilemma, something beyond the double doors of the hall scratched and clawed quietly, and the shadows in the hall darkened, just a little, tiny, awful bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cainhurst raised a good question in asking where this happens in Wine Verse timeline, and I will say: it takes place after Shock, but just before they fully resolved the whole "i have a split personality and am terribly traumatised" issue between them. So. YAY. 
> 
> Anyway as you can tell by the rapid updates despite my terrible internet issues, i'm having way too much fun with this fic. or the flu is oddly making me productive. hmmmmmm. 
> 
> but. yup. this chapter was fun
> 
> : )


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Oh, Fury _fuck_ me."

Launix body was gone.

Aymeric frowned down at the spot where he had left the body, his eyes following the smeared blood trail that led further down the hallway and into a narrow side-corridor. Behind him, soldiers shuffled and fidgeted anxiously as one of the exorcists knelt by the smeared, congealed pool of blood. Their expression was difficult to make out, the upper half of their face hidden behind a smooth, eyeless mask, but their mouth was pressed into a thin, grim line.

“Traces of the Voidsent linger here,” the exorcist, Denine, finally murmured. Her voice was soft, but somehow clearly heard. She smoothly pushed herself to her feet, her head still tilted towards the pool of blood, “A fresh corpse was too much of a temptation.”

“So, it has a body,” Aymeric summarised. Fantastic. It had been threatening enough when incorporeal, but the exorcists had been convinced that the damage it could do was restricted by its lack of physical form. With it now settled in a corpse… though… “Wouldn’t that make it more vulnerable?”

"It depends on what it required the corpse for," Denine murmured, "If it took it fresh, then it most likely consumed what aether lingered within to amplify its strength. Otherwise, it may have utilised it as a puppet to interact with the physical world. Voidsent have numerous, profane rituals for the recently dead, Lord Commander."

Aymeric blew out a sharp breath, eyeing where the blood trail vanished into that narrow side-passage. It was a tempting trail to follow, but the passageway was cramped and dark, enough room for one man to march in - it'd be suicide to send whatever knight down there. He turned away from it with a sigh, frowning in frustration. What can they even do...?

“Strange that it has not yet shown itself,” he murmured to himself. It’s been several hours since he and Aza had their run in with it, but it had been curiously quiet. He would have thought it would've leapt at the chance large groups of people offered it, but so far they hadn't so much as seen a suspicious shadow. It was making him wonder if he hadn't just had some sort of... shared hallucination with Aza, or if the Voidsent was too intimidated by the show of force. Whatever the reason, it was beyond irritating. He wanted this thing purged  _yesterday._

Denine was looking at him - or, he assumed so. Her head was turned towards him, "It may be waiting for an opportune target, to bolster its strength further."

So, stragglers or runners between the hunting parties. Aymeric had split their forces into three sizeable groups to scour the remains of Dusk Vigil – but communication was still vital. Normally this would be done by Linkpearl but something in the vigil caused awful disruption to the connection. They had to rely on old-fashioned runners, though none of them had been accosted or molested by anything yet – he made a mental note to increase the runners from pairs to trios, though, just in case.

“Let’s push back to the upper levels,” Aymeric said, “We can-”

Denine abruptly stiffened – and a split second later, that awful, unnatural chill crept over him. One of the soldiers shouted, and Aymeric heard the ring of drawn steel – his own hand landed on the hilt of his blade, narrowing his eyes as the hallway slowly began to darken, colour leeching out, the cold growing sharp in the lungs. Low, malicious laughter thrummed in the very corners of the shadows.

 _Hunting me now? That’s very bold of you all_.

“Voidsent,” Denine called boldly, her head tilted upwards slightly – Aymeric followed her gaze, but saw nothing but shadow, “Reveal yourself now, and your banishment shall be swift and painless. Resist, and face the full judgement of the Fury Herself!”

 _Or perhaps just **stupid**. _ The shadows pressed in further, and someone began whispering a frantic prayer to Halone. Aymeric just clenched his jaw, _Fury this, Halone that… you speak in Her name, pray to Her, but She cares naught for you all. **I** am the only real power here._

The hallway groaned, a deep, primal noise, as the floor began to shudder minutely.

_Save us, save me, help me… these cries and prayers brought **me** here, and I delivered… not your **Halone**. But oh well, long have I become accustomed to mortals’ ingratitude. I’ll simply take my due. _

“You will not-!” Aymeric began angrily, but that was as far as he got.

For with a powerful, sharp cracking noise that echoed throughout the Vigil, the hallway’s ceiling finally gave up. With a dull roar, stone and half-rotted support beams collapsed down on the gathered knights, as the Voidsent merely laughed. 

_And I think, my dear Aymeric, I will start with **you**. _

* * *

 

Aza was both bored and anxious.

And exhausted. But whenever he found himself drifting into some sort of light doze, he would abruptly find himself jolting back into full awareness. He shouldn’t sleep – he didn’t know why he kept thinking that, but it was an instinctual thing he knew deep in his bones. He couldn’t sleep. He needed to stay awake, even if he felt like something had scooped out all of his insides and attached leaden weights to his eyelids.

Stay awake… stay awake…

In complete opposite to him, Allert was snoring obnoxiously on his crates. Aza deeply envied him.

“I need to get out of here…” he muttered, pushing himself off from the cot bed to restlessly pace the small space next to it. He wished he had some of Bluebird’s smokebombs. He could at least use those as a distraction when trying to flee, but then he’d probably have twelve angry knights, plus Allert, chasing him throughout the Vigil, which wasn’t ideal, really. If Aymeric told them to make sure he stayed put, he was fairly certain nothing short of the second coming of Nidhogg would deter them from the task.

He stopped his pacing and turned towards the bed, deciding to sit down for a bit when – the Echo pulsed a warning.

He froze.

It was – an abrupt feeling. A sensation of being watched. He drew himself up, glancing around but… no, just Allert snoring into his book. Still, he couldn’t shake off the feeling and he slowly pivoted on his heel, looking all around him. The shadows looked normal, though, it felt a bit colder maybe…

_‘scritchscritch’_

Aza’s ear flicked. That noise. His heartrate practically tripled and his mind almost violently decided to eject itself from the situation – he grappled with it. He took a deep, shuddering breath, clenched his fists, and fought down the knee-jerk panic. No. _No_ , he was not- going to _flip out_. Snarling angrily at himself, disgusted at his own cowardice, he forced himself to stomp over to Allert, viciously kicking at his crates.

“Allert! Allert, w _ake up now_!”

“Argh! Ugh, what th’fuck-” Allert jerked awake clumsily, his book flopping onto the floor, “Aza, you damn-”

“ _It’s here_ ,” he hissed at him, and now that he was aware – the hall was colder, almost looked dimmer, and the scratching noise felt like it was happening right at his heels. But whenever he peeked, there was nothing there, _but there was something there_. At this point the Echo was like a Garlean alarm, a dull whining in the back of his mind, “It’s here, Allert!”

“What’s _here_?” Allert snapped, but he looked fully alert now, “Calm down, lad. Take a deep breath-”

“I’m not _freaking out_!” Aza yelled at him, even though he _was_ , “I know I’m fucking crazy but _listen_ , it’s here, that’s- that _Voidsent-_ ”

Allert immediately jumped to his feet, cutting him off, “ _What_? It’s here? Fuck me, where?”

“I don’t know _where_ exactly just, it’s here,” Aza said, suddenly aware how stupid he sounded. It was just how he knew someone was going to swing their blade just so, or that they were going to cast a spell to cover this range – just something he _knew_ , and it made his skin crawl something fierce. “I can hear it.”

Allert stared at him for a long moment, and for one, despairing second, Aza thought he was going to tell him it was all in his fucked-up head. But the medic just sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, and picked up his cane, “Okay, alright. I’ll talk to the sentries and let them know to be on guard. Stay here – unless the Voidsent tries to molest you, then run away, I guess.”

With that, Allert swept past the curtain and was gone.

Aza remained frozen in place, feeling horrifically vulnerable and naked without his blade. He didn’t even have a breastplate on – it looked like it was removed when he was asleep earlier, probably because it had been soaked in blood, and he nervously rubbed his arms, hugging himself. The scratching noise kept echoing around him, and he could hear Allert distantly speaking to the sentries – couldn’t quite make out the words, though, probably something to the effect of ‘the Warrior of Light is off his rocker blah blah blah yeah he’s super crazy’. His heart felt like it was trying to crawl out through his throat.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he muttered to himself, “If it comes for me, I can take it. Whatever I see, it isn’t real. It’ll be okay.”

But it got too much. Standing in that small, enclosed space by himself, seeing his breath mist before him and the invisible thing scratching at his heels. He practically tore through the curtains, marching across the hall towards Allert and the sentries, trying to ignore how they stared at him as they approached.

“Did the Voidsent pop out?” Allert asked him with forced casualness.

“No, but I’m creeped out,” Aza said, trying to match his light tone and failing miserably.

“This whole place is creepy,” Allert huffed, scanning the hall with a jaundiced eye. “You can practically _feel_ all that malevolence and bitterness soaked into the stones here.”

“Ser Aza,” one of the knights piped up – his name escaped him, “How do you know the Voidsent is here?”

Allert saved him from answering, “Because of Hydaelyn’s Blessin’, you ingrate. Don’t you know it gifts him with a pre-cognitive ability?”

The gathered knights looked interested at this – then grim, because if his pre-cognitive ability was screaming ‘VOIDSENT’, then…

“We’ll be ready for it,” another knight said – his armour denoted him as a sergeant of some sort, “Not to worry, Ser Aza, the Lord Commander told us to defend you with our lives. No Voidsent will get its grubby little claws on-”

A loud scraping noise, metal on stone, echoed in the hall, cutting him off. Everyone went still.

“Uh,” the first knight looked about nervously, “What was that?”

The Echo pulsed another warning – _behind_ – and Aza very slowly turned around. From the corner of his eye he saw Allert do the same. His gaze landed on the frozen corpses stacked against the far wall, and watched with a dull kind of ‘oh, of course’ emotion as one of them slowly sat up. The tattered cloth covering it fell away, revealing the half rotted, grey face of Ser Yuhelmeric, his black eyes instantly locking onto Aza.

“Oh, Fury _fuck_ me,” Allert muttered.

A shrill, inhuman chattering laugh escaped Ser Yuhelmeric and he lurched clumsily onto his half-frozen, rotted legs. The moment he was on his feet, the other corpses began to stir, all climbing to their feet in slow, sluggish movements, all staring right at Aza. There was, he noted, over thirty of them.

Thirty-plus verses fourteen of them.

To the knights’ credit, their stunned shock lasted for only mere nanoseconds, “TO ARMS!” the sergeant bellowed, leaping to his feet fast enough that his chair was knocked flat on the floor, his men rapidly following him, all their expressions various degrees of panicked horror.

“Allert, where’s my sword?!” Aza snapped, turning to the medic, “I can deal with this, just let me-”

“Uh! The Voidsent is here, lad!” Allert snapped right back, “The moment your hands lay on that blade-”

“ _I can kill all of them_.”

Allert stared at him, and Aza realised too late that it was Fray’s voice that had left him. But he didn’t falter, he stared right back at Allert, his hands clenched as the soldiers formed a human wall between them and the slowly advancing, shuffling zombies. Aza knew he would win. These things? He tore through them like tissue paper last he was here. He would win. He would _crush_ them.

But maybe, that’s what the Voidsent wants? A small voice whispered in the back of his mind. He brutally ignored it.

“I don’t doubt you could,” Allert said slowly, warily, “But you can just as easily kill us.”

Aza made a brittle noise, clenching his fists tight as he looked wildly about himself for some form of weapon. He’d take a fucking dagger at this point, but no, nothing. Just the table and chairs the knights were gathered around – he could smash the zombies about the head with the chairs at least if things got desperate, but he wouldn’t feel _safe_ until he had something sharp and metal in his hands.

“Just stay with me, lad,” Allert muttered, already shifting into a battle stance. The knights were ready and waiting, blades drawn, and the zombie horde was now close enough that Aza could see the stark blue veins in their pale, grey faces, “If things get too bad, I’ll give you something.”

“Comforting,” Aza hissed, hating his position. He was the protector, not the _protectee_.

But that was all he could say, for at that moment the zombies descended on them with shrill, chattering laughter, crashing against the gathered knights in a relentless swarm.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SHIT GETS REAL CHAPTER. 
> 
> Next chapter will be Aymeric vs Voidsent, and 12 knights (plus one unarmed WoL and a cranky medic) vs 30+ zombies. WHO WILL WIN??? We'll see next time ; )))


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Oh, but I’ve gotten off track, haven’t I? I have some memories to show you. They’re delightfully **traumatic.**_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: REFERENCES TO PROSTITUTION/CHILD PROSTITUTION, SLAVERY

Aymeric jerked awake with a pained hiss.

There was a dull, throbbing pain spiking through his ribs, but otherwise he was in one piece. Despite being groggy and confused, he’d been knocked around after enough patrols beset by dragons to do a quick limb check on instinct. Everything was there and accounted for. A bit bruised, and his ribs may be slightly cracked, by otherwise, okay.

Right.

There was the sound of dripping water somewhere, a constant, staccato noise, accompanied by the low, creaking groans of shifting masonry. His memories felt a bit muddled, but he remembered… going to collect Knight Launix’s body with Exorcist Denine and a contingent of soldiers, and then…

Ah. The Voidsent. The cave-in.

Aymeric, very slowly and carefully, sat up.

It was pitch-black, and the air was choked with dust and damp. The noise of him getting to his feet sounded uncomfortably loud in the darkness, and he was relieved when he found his weapon still on him, his hand clenching around the hilt as he got his feet under him. The throbbing in his ribs spiked unpleasantly, but he simply breathed through it, pushing the pain aside as he took a few cautious and blind steps forwards.

Exorcist Denine had been standing right next to him, so it stood to reason that she should be here, and yet… it seemed he was utterly alone. There were no other bodies lying on the floor, and when he tried to step to where he was… sure he had been, earlier, nothing but solid wall met his hands. Broken masonry and wet wood was all he could feel, so, that was where the hallway caved in. It was a miracle Aymeric hadn’t been _crushed_ , though he supposed that was the Voidsent’s intention. It had separated him from the bulk of his men, and though he waited and listened, couldn’t hear anything on the other side.

_Pining for company, are you?_

Aymeric stiffened as alien voice echoed all around him, and he curled his fingers against the cold stone, digging his knuckles right into the rough surface, “Not for yours,” he said curtly.

_My, how **hurtful**. I have been looking forward to it being just us as well…_

Aymeric ignored the voice. He turned away from the collapsed corridor, and blindly stepped forwards. He would nudge the floor, to make sure he wouldn’t trip over stray bits of ceiling, picking a wary path down the hallway. He was not comfortable sitting here, having a Voidsent purr at him. Better to just forge onwards.

_Ever forwards, ever onwards, that **is** just how you deal with things, hm?_ The Voidsent, unfortunately, did not seem bothered by his cold shoulder, _Looking to the future to find brighter, happier things, rather than dwelling on the sadness of the past._

Aymeric grimly ignored it.

_A commendable attitude to have! It explains how you’re so **compatible** with lovely, broken Aza. Only someone with such delusional optimism would believe that such an ugly, broken thing like him could ever have a happy ending._

“Don’t speak of him like that,” he snapped, then almost cursed himself for falling for the bait.

The Voidsent practically _radiated_ satisfaction, and the chill grew that little bit sharper, _But it’s the **truth**. You think you can help him, but can you really when you know so little of his demons? You’re willingly blind, my dear Aymeric, because you’re frightened that your lovely, adoring Aza is not who he says he is. _

Aymeric said nothing, and not because it was right. He didn’t prod too deeply at Aza’s past because he didn’t want to speak about it, and it seemed harmful to force it. That was… all.

_You really are delusional. Haha, well, no matter. If you’re worried about hurting him by making him speak of it, then allow me to **show you**._

“I won’t believe any illusion you send my way, Voidsent,” Aymeric told it.

_These aren’t illusions, these are **memories**. All stirred up from Aza himself. The Echo is such a **glorious** thing, if you know how to exploit it. Resonation between two sets of aetherical signatures… it took a bit of twisting and pulling, and I may have… broken a few things in him, but I got what I needed. _

Aymeric went still at that, “What did you _do_?”

_Hahaha~ nothing **permanent** , don’t worry. It will all heal with time._

But Aymeric did worry. Aza had been acting… now that he thought about it, he had looked so drained and unwell. He had initially thought it was the result of his… condition making him appear such, but had he been fighting off this Voidsent digging through his mind? Through his aether? How could Aymeric miss something like that?

_If it’s any consolation, he’s too difficult to **outright** possess. I tried when he slept and was shoved right back out for my troubles by that damnable **Fray**. That was unpleasant._

That wasn’t any consolation at all. The overwhelming urge to get back to Aza almost overcame him – he had left a full section behind to defend him, in case anything happened, but what if during his absence, the Voidsent had returned there? He fought hard to keep himself outwardly calm, unsure of how deeply it could perceive his emotions, and quickened his pace. The hallway he was in curved slightly. He followed it.

_Oh, but I’ve gotten off track, haven’t I? I have some memories to show you. They’re delightfully **traumatic.**_

“I don’t want to see them,” Aymeric snapped.

_Well, too bad, lovely, you don’t get a choice._

Then it felt as if someone drove a pickaxe into the base of his skull. His vision flashed white and he staggered, his knees hitting dark, frozen floor as everything rapidly faded out, the Voidsent’s laughter following him down, down, down…

 

* * *

 

Aza was sitting on a low hanging branch, idly fidgeting with a bow. He looked young, about thirteen summers at the most, and had his eyes trained on a young Miqo’te girl lying in the tall grass below. She bore a striking resemblance to Aza, though her hair was darker and her eyes larger. She was prowling forwards on all four, her tail lifted high into the air as she slowly, and carefully snuck up on a rabbit with its back to her, grooming its ears.

Aza looked amused.

“Hyah!” the girl pounced with a roar cry, diving onto the rabbit… and getting a faceful of dirt when the creature darted away well out of reach. She yelped, flying upright and spitting out bits of mud and grass, her face scrunched up in disgust.

“Ugh! Yuck! Ew!”

“I told you you can’t catch them like that, Ala,” Aza called to her, picking an apple from the branch he was lounging on and tossing it at the girl. She yelped when it clocked her in the back of her heard, “You’re not a couerl.”

“I almost had it!” she whined, rubbing the back of her head as she picked up the thrown apple. She rubbed the dirt off her face, sniffling, before taking a moody bite out of her apple, “I’ll get ‘emphf onefgf daymf.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Aza sighed, sliding off the branch. He landed with nary a sound on the grass, slinging his bow as he swaggered over to her. “C’mon, stop pouting,” he nudged her with his foot, smiling as she wriggled and whined at him, “Look, how about we go to the beach? We can go pick seashells.”

Ala still looked a bit sulky, but when Aza nudged her again, she reluctantly smiled, “Can we play in the rock pools too?”

“Yup! We’ll find some hermit crabs and stuff.”

“Okay!” Ala climbed to her feet, quickly chomping three large bites on the apple and tossing its core aside. Cheeks bulging almost comically, she raced ahead of Aza, plunging past the trees.

“Ugh, where does she get the energy…” Aza grumbled, but he was smiling, following at a more relaxed pace. The trees were thick, but they grew sparser the further he walked, until the smell of saltwater began to fill the air. Aza lingered by another tree, taking his time as he deviated his route to follow a promising set of deer tracks. As much as he liked rabbit, he hadn’t had deer in a good long while.  

“Hmm… maybe if I dump her in the ocean for a bit, I can go hunt this…” he mumbled to himself, trailing after the tracks for several yalms, before reluctantly doubling back towards the beach.

Trees gave way to shrubs and coarse sand, and Aza frowned as he stepped onto the sand, looking from side to side. Bright blue water greeted him, as well a tall outcropping of rocks to his right, in the far distance, tide pools circling the rocky hill, and the beach curving away to his left until it hit a tall cliff-face. There was no sign of Ala.

“Ala?” Aza called, stepping a bit further onto the beach. “Ala! Where are you?”

No reply.

“For the love of…” Aza grumbled, looking down. Small footprints were in the sand, but… here were also another set. Two. Large. Adult. They all mingled together, and Ala’s quickly broke away, widely spaced as if running, with the other sets following.

A chill crawled down his spine.

Unslinging his bow, Aza quickly stalked after the trail. It led to the rocky outcrop, and as he drew closer, he could hear low, rough voices, heavy with an unfamiliar accent. He crouched low, his steps near silent as he sidled up close to the porous stone, edging round until he could peek about the corner.

Two large men were standing by a small boat. They had two large barrels with them, and a net full of apples that they must’ve pulled from the trees nearby. More importantly, the biggest of the pair – a pale-skinned Roedygan – had his sister under one meaty arm, her mouth stuff with what looked like a rag. Her expression was frightened but furious, and she uselessly kicked her legs out to break free.

“How lucky was this, eh?” The Roedygan was saying, as his Hyur companion dug about in their small boat, “The Captain was complainin’ about not havin’ any Miqo’te wenches fer th’client, and what did we stumble on when resupplyin’? Gods are bein’ kind to us!”

“I think he was talkin’ about older wenches,” His Hyur companion sighed, pulling out a length of rope from the boat, “This ‘ere’s a baby.”

“Babies grow up, don’t they? I don’t know, you have some right freaks out there who’d probably buy this.”

“Ach, yer right. Creepy fuckers. Good pay though.”

Aza leaned back, his heart hammering as he clenched his bow. Fuck. Slavers. He knew they visited these parts sometimes, Mom had warned him about them but… shit. _Shit_. He quickly pulled an arrow, nocking it and pulling the string slightly, to pre-empt the draw, and took a deep, bracing breath. He can… shoot the Roe first (though he’s never shot a _Spoken_ before, he ignored the churning in his stomach at that), and then, he’ll drop his sister and, he can shoot the other one and while they were distracted, he’d run in and rescue his sister! He’ll run into the trees – they wouldn’t catch them then.

He forced his hands to stop trembling, took a deep bracing breath, and slid around the rock, drawing his bow-

The Roe looked up just as he stepped out, letting out a loud shout-

He let the arrow fly loose.

It hit the Roe right in the shoulder. He shrieked in pain, dropping Ala – who, without hesitating, instantly bolted towards him. Aza, his pulse pounding furiously with adrenaline, quickly nocked another arrow as the Hyur let out an angry shout, charging after him – Ala? – unsheathing a nasty looking sword, arm raised-

He let loose another arrow, but panic or _something_ made it go wide, breezing past the slaver’s thigh. The Hyur flinched slightly, but his eyes were bright with cruel glee when he realised the near miss, advancing quickly – too quickly. Aza quickly dropped his bow, no time to sling it, scooping up Ala as she reached him, spinning on his heel to run-

Something hit smashed him right in the head.

He blacked out.

 

* * *

 

He groaned quietly when he came to, a debilitating migraine stabbing right behind his eyes as he gingerly cracked them open. The ground was sloshing unpleasantly from side to side, the stink of shit and vomit and saltwater thick in the air. His stomach rolled unpleasantly, and he squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to get up – paused when he found his arms bound tight behind his back.

“Ugh…”

What…

“Aza?” Ala’s voice whispered to him, faint with fear, “Aza, are you okay?”

“Ala?” he slurred, cracking his eyes open again. Everything was blurry and out of focus, but… someone leaned over him, pale-faced with messy hair. Ala. She looked like she’d been crying, a stark black bruise over her cheek, and he realised that she too had her arms tied behind her back.

“I-I thought you were dead,” she sniffled, her voice wobbling dangerously, “They- they got you a-and, and you weren’t moving and, and they said they were gonna toss you in the water. But-but then they said, s-someone said they, they knew s-someone who wanted a- a- ‘feisty boy’ and, and then-”

“S’okay,” Aza said, even though he didn’t really understand what was going on. He took a bracing breath and forced himself upright. Difficult when his head was spinning and his arms where tied, but he managed to force himself up. Instantly he could see he was in some sort of… hold of a ship. There were other people too, tied up and huddled in their own groups. Quite a lot of them were female Hyurs with only a handful of males, and one stone-faced female Roedygan. He and his sister were the only Miqo’te.

The reality of it started to sink in. The beach. Slavers. _Shit_.

“A-Aza, I’m scared,” Ala hiccupped next to him, “I want to go home.”

He wanted to go home too. He felt like his stomach had just reached the bottom of the ocean as he realised what this meant. They were on a _big ship_ , meaning, they were long gone from the beach. Long gone from home. Oh, Gods, _Mom_. Fuck. Oh fuck. But he fought to stay calm, because Ala was crying quietly, and he needed- okay. He can fix this. Mom taught him how to get out of bindings. He can… break free and, then.

“S’okay,” he whispered to her, ignoring how his voice wobbled, “It’s okay. I’ll- I’ll get us out of here, okay?”

“T-They said they’re gonna _sell_ us,” Ala cried.

“We’re not gonna be sold,” Aza vowed, twisting his wrists, testing the give. The rope was tight enough that he could feel it cut right into his skin, rubbing it raw and bleeding. He gritted his teeth against the pain, started to try and wriggle himself free, “I’m going to save us, okay?”

“O-Okay.”

“And then we’ll go home,” he continued, because he needed to continue, “And have a lot of rabbit stew, and Mom will give us both hugs and everything will be fine, okay? Everything’s going to be _okay_.”

“Okay…”

It was a promise Aza did not keep.

 

* * *

 

 

Meanwhile, in the present, Aza leaned that if you’re _really_ motivated, a chair is a dangerous weapon.

“I’m very terrified of you right now!” Allert yelled over to him as he bashed a very handsy zombie over the head with his cane, “Can you fight with _anythin’_!?”

“Shut up! Less talking, more killing!” Aza yelled back, swinging the chair and knocking Ser Yuhelmeric back a few steps when he smashed it over his head. He cursed when the whole thing shattered from the force of the blow, leaving him holding onto just its leg, but he tossed the useless piece of wood aside and quickly reached behind him to grab another chair. He’d already gone through five and was down to his last three. Better make them count.

The battle was, after all, was going _poorly_. Three knights had already been dragged into the midst of the horde and torn apart, one was mortally wounded, kept alive by a very quick patchwork healing spell from Allert and currently unconscious under the table, and the rest were determined but flagging. Every zombie they put down was quickly replaced by another, and Aza was sure that one of two simply got back up, unless they were hindered by lack of legs or some such.

“Come _on_ , you undead fucker!” Aza roared as Ser Yuhelmeric regained his balance. The zombie just looked at him, his grey faced locked in a rictus grin, “You want a piece of me?! Then come get it, you Voidsent humping, fuck-”

Ser Yuhelmeric lurched forwards, arms outstretched in a mindless, grabbing motion. Aza side-stepped and bashed him over the head full force, knocking the zombie flat on the ground. He didn’t hesitate – he just kept hitting him – again and again and again, until that chair also fell apart in his hands and Ser Yuhelmeric’s head looked more like a crushed watermelon than anything… head-like.

“Fuck me,” Aza hissed, tossing aside the chair leg and kicking the corpse for good measure. If he got back up again, at least he would be too blind to do anything dangerous. Just aim him at a wall and let him bounce off it several times.  

“Gallent!” One of the remaining knights screamed, and Aza snapped his head up to see one unfortunate knight get pulled into the throng of zombies. His high-pitched screams of terror and pain were instantly cut off, and Aza winced when he saw blood spurt over the mob, a disembodied arm flying a moment later.

“We can’t win!” Another knight howled, “There’re too many! Halone save us!”

“Halone ain’t here!” Allert roared. The sergeant had been the first to die, and as the next highest rank, the grumpy medic had quickly assumed command. “It’s just us and our swords, lads! Now use ‘em! If we’re meetin’ the Fury after this, I’d rather it be after dyin’ on my feet, not runnin’ away like a damned coward!”

Aza quickly took advantage of Allert’s distraction. As the medic whipped the faltering troops back into shape, he dived for the convalescing soldier under the table. The knight moaned in pain, his stomach wet with blood, but Aza snatched the sword lying next to him. Fuck the chairs. He was settling this now.

Crawling back out from under the table, he marched forwards, and Allert looked over with a scowl.

“Oh, _fine_. We’re all fucked anyway,” he huffed.

“Not anymore,” Aza said grimly, barging past the medic and into the thinning line of knights. The sword was too light and short for comfort, but Aza remembered how to use longswords. They may not have the crushing momentum and power of a greatsword, but its edge was razor sharp, and it was strong, reliable Ishgardian steel. It would be enough.

It was like something settled into place. He found himself smiling, grinning brilliantly as he just walked forwards, right into the thick of it – the knights yelling at him to come back – and got to lovely, wonderful work.

Oh, it was _fantastic_ , like scratching an itch he didn’t know he had.

 

* * *

 

Lucia frowned as a warning horn echoed through the encampment, looking up from where she was pouring over the reports over the state of the vigil gates to see a bit of commotion by the sentries. Abandoning her work, she strode over to them quickly, seeing that the sentries was supporting a heavily limping, wounded soldier.

She ran the last few fulms, instantly alarmed.

“What happened? Report, soldier!” she barked, recognising the knight. Knight Bradex, one of Captain Atrex’s most trusted men.

“The Vigil, it’s… cursed,” the knight wheezed. There was blood over his face, a nasty wound cut over his temple, and blood oozed in the chinks of his armour. He was barely able to stand, and Lucia had to commend the fact that he had most likely ran and dragged himself here with such grievous wounds, “A V-Voidsent plagues it. Ser Aza couldn’t… it…”

“Get him to a medic, immediately,” Lucia ordered.

“No! I need- please, you must, send help!” the soldier gasped, “I-It has, the Lord C-Commander!”

Lucia felt herself turn as hard and cold as stone, grimly staring down at the knight.

“Get him to a medic,” she repeated, her voice soft. She was not denied. Heads bowed, the knights raced off with their wounded comrade, and she turned to the gates leading deeper into the vigil, her eyes dark. A Voidsent with her Lord Commander? That was something she would not allow.

“Captain Esie!” she roared, marching over to her second with all the blazing fury she could muster, “Gather the men, immediately! We have a Voidsent to exorcise!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GO GET THEM LUCIA
> 
> but yeah so. there we go. aymeric gets to experience how the echo feels like (thank u horrible voidsent from hell) and sees the nasty bits of aza's past, and aza learns that the tactic of chair smashing is actually very deadly. pls save them lucia, you're these idiots only hope. 
> 
> i am like a writing MACHINE. i am also well enough to congratulate myself with some subway so i think i'll do that. mmm steak and cheese sandwich...


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Once a **slave** , always a **slave**._

Aymeric, once more, woke up with a soft noise of pain.

It wasn’t just his ribs this time, though. Instead there was a sharp, pointed pain in the base of his skull, that made his vision flash white with each, stabbing throb. It took a few attempts to get himself onto his knees, one hand clutching his skull as he legitimately worried his brain would start pooling out of his ears any moment.

_Ahhh, I forgot how taxing it could be on those unaccustomed to it. Well, a break is necessary from time to time, hm?_

“What… did you…” Aymeric slurred, trying to sort out the odd jumble in his head. He had seen… Aza’s memories as if he _had_ been Aza. It had been beyond disorientating, feeling another’s emotions and fears and worries. Aza had a sister, had loved her fiercely and yet… he never mentioned her ever to him. And, those slavers…

 _The Echo isn’t gentle,_ The Voidsent affected a sympathetic tone, but ruined it with a low, malicious laugh, _But how did you enjoy that little **introduction**? Aza Lynel, the ‘Warrior of Light’… a slave. Who would have thought?_

“He isn’t…” Aymeric forcibly shook off the wooziness in his mind, “He isn’t a slave.”

_Once a **slave** , always a **slave**. It’s carved into him, from his memories to his dreams right down to his base behaviour. His fear of disappointment, his fear of saying… ‘no’. People tell him to jump and he does so without thinking. It’s **broken into him** as much as he likes to think otherwise. You must admit, Hydaelyn chose very wisely for her mindless soldier. Anyone else may have asked inconvenient **questions** at this point… _

Aymeric didn’t reply. He was still reeling.

 _But I think that’s enough of a break for now. Let’s push on, shall we?_  

And there came that pain again. Detachedly, Aymeric could only think how lucky it was he was already on his knees. Less distance to fall this time.

 

* * *

 

Aza couldn’t undo the knots.

He spent a good hour at them, twisting his wrists and trying to see if the slick wood of the hold they were in had enough roughness for him to wear them thing, but all it ended up was him all but ripping the skin off his wrists. He could feel blood trickle over his palms and fingers, and there was a constant, burning throb that was near-agony every time the coarse rope rubbed over the open sores.  

He wanted to cry. It hurt so much, and he was so frightened, but every time he felt his throat close and his eyes burn, he just had to look at Ala’s pale, bruised face for his resolve to firm up again. No, he can’t cry. Ala was relying on him to get them out of this – he _promised_ to get her out of this, and he _will_. He just… he needed something _sharp_.

But the slavers weren’t idiots. The hold held nothing but human cargo. There wasn’t even anywhere to go to the toilet, he realised, not that it would’ve been easy with everyone’s arms bound behind their backs. Frustration bubbled low in his gut – or, that might’ve just been hunger too. He hadn’t eaten since… yesterday, thinking on it. He’d been saving his appetite for Ala’s Nameday celebration dinner.

At least he knew Ala ate something before getting nabbed, he thought darkly.

“Aza,” Ala mumbled to him. She had swung from crying to terrifying silence for the past hour, and had now hit exhaustion, “I need to pee.”

“Try and hold it,” Aza told her distractedly, twisting his wrists again and breathing through the burning agony it brought. The ropes felt a little looser… maybe if he dislocated his thumb, he could squirm his hand out? Hmm, but he never did that before, just something he heard from Mom’s slurred, drunken stories of when she used to run with poachers in her “dumb, foolish youth”. He stared hard at the floor, curling his fingers around his thumb and tentatively pushing at it, trying to find where the joint was exactly, so he could…

Everyone jumped when the door to the cargo slammed open. Ala shot bolt upright from where she’d been listing tiredly, scooting until she was huddled behind him in a shivering ball. Aza had gone still too, watchful, trying to seem as unobtrusive as possible as he watched thick, heavy boots clomp down the stairs, until in dead centre of the cargo hold stood a tall, Roegadyn woman with her leering cronies.

Aza glared at her from beneath his fringe.

The Roe seemed to be looking for something, and Aza felt his heart flutter anxiously when her ice-blue eye landed on him. She smiled, a predatory gesture, and sauntered towards him with the rest of her men following in her majestic wake. She looked like every stereotype of a salty pirate – eyepatch, flamboyant coat with a mean looking cutlass at her waist – but she moved lightly and decisively, despite the unsteady rolling of the ship.

“And this ‘ere’s our Miqo’te merchandise, is it?” she asked, coming to a firm halt in front of him. She was so tall he had to crane his neck right back to look her in the face, and she seemed absolutely delighted when he gave her his most hateful look, “Oh my, what a look. You said ‘e’s the one who shot Slaffolg?”

“Aye, capt’n,” an unpleasantly familiar Hyur piped up behind her, “Saw it meself. Just bam, outta nowhere, shot ‘im right in the shoulder. Almost got me in the thigh too, the lil’ sod.”

‘Capt’n’ tossed her head back and laughed, loud and rough, before leaning down and slapping her hand down atop of Aza’s head. It hurt, pain flaring up from where he’d been knocked out earlier, and he bared his fangs, his ears pressed flat against his skull as his tail lashed.

“Fearsome lil’ tiger, you are, huh?” she purred at him, “Well, keep hold of that spirit, lad. You’ll be needin’ it for your new master.”

“Fuck you, _cunt_ ,” Aza hissed.

“Hm,” Capt’n smiled at him, an indulgent gesture as she petted his hair… then suddenly grabbed his ear, giving it a vicious twist. He yelped in pain, trying to shake free – but her grip was like iron. Her smile didn’t waver once. “Too spirited, maybe,” she said idly, then mercifully let go.

His ear throbbed from the painful twist, but anger made it easy for him to grit his teeth and bare it, glowering up at the Roe as she straightened up, tossing her long, silvery hair over her shoulder. “Alright lads, I think we need t’take our pound of flesh for our good mate Slaffolg, don’t y'think?”

The men behind her grinned, looking as lean and hungry as starving wolves. Aza felt trepidation behind to puncture his boldness.

“But don’t touch his face,” Capt’n said, turning away, “’E needs to stay pretty for Lord Musa, y’hear?”

“Don’t worry, Capt’n, we’ll be real gentle-like.”

The Roe left, but the men remained. Everyone else in the hold were looking away, refusing to make eye contact. Aza could feel his heart start to pound somewhere in his throat, fighting the urge to scoot away as one of the men advanced. Ala was shivering behind him. He couldn’t-

“Heheh, where’s that cockiness from earlier, brat? Don’t be nervous. We’re jus’ gonna be teachin’ you some manners.”

The Hyur from the beach stopped right in front of him. His cruel grin terrified him right to the core.

“This ‘ere’s for Slaffolg, y’lil’ shit.”

Then he booted him right in the gut, and as Aza bent over, coughing and wheezing in pain, the boot came back down, along with fists and other boots and jeering and laughing and so much fucking _pain_. 

As unconsciousness started to claim him, he faintly heard Ala scream his name – then scream in pain.

 

* * *

 

“Hmm, being rough with the merchandise again, Captain Loetrlona?”

“Ach, y’know how me men are like. They’re used t’strong adults, not delicate lil’ Miqo-kids. E’s jus’ a lil’ banged up.”

The Au ra hummed sceptically but didn’t question Capt’n’s roguish smile any. Aza was in too much pain to really pay their interaction much mind. He stood awkwardly in front of the pale Au ra, threatening to tip over to one side if it weren’t for Capt’n’s powerful grip on his upper arm. Her fingers were digging right into a bruise too, but he was too wary of saying anything.

“You know this will lower the price,” the Au ra said severely, “Lord Musa _hates_ damaged goods, as I have told you _many times_ before.”

Capt’n just waved a hand dismissively, “Yeah, yeah, it won’t happen again.”

The Au ra just sighed, clearly this was an old argument between them, and stepped in close. Aza flinched when he reached out to him, but the Au ra ignored it and grabbed his chin, tilting his head up and turning his face from side to side, “At least you avoided the face,” the Au ra muttered, “Hm, a bit young but… he’ll grow up pretty.”

“Right? ‘E has a sister too. Pretty lil’ thing.”

“Hmm,” the Au ra scrutinised him so intently it was discomforting. Aza glared right into his eyes though, hating him and Capt’n and everything right now. “Spirited, despite the beating you gave him. That’s good… Lord Musa has been saying he wanted something with vigour.”

“Called me a cunt, ‘e did,” Capt’n agreed with a bit of pride, “’Ad to knock ‘im about a bit for that, y’understand, but he also shot one of me men when we was tryin’ to take ‘im in.”

“Is that so? Hmm…” The Au ra let go of his chin and reached down to grab his hands. Aza’s skin crawled, and he flexed his fingers as if to dig his fingernails right into that man’s spindly hands – but Capt’n dug her nails right into _him_ , and he quickly forgot the idea with a low, pained hiss, “Scars… clearly well-trained with the bow. Hm, hm…”

“S’that extra?” Capt’n asked slyly.

“Perhaps… Lord Musa did express interest in a hunting companion, though, perhaps after he’s broken in a bit. At this stage, he’s too untamed to be trusted with a weapon in Lord Musa’s presence.”

Capt’n waited.

“Hmm…” The Au ra let go of his hands and started poking and prodding at his torso. Aza had to bite his bottom lip to stop any whimpers of pain leaving him, “Proportional, fairly toned for his age… a bit of a runt, though. Par the course with these wild breeds. A Keeper-Seeker hybrid, I’m assuming. Uncommon, but valuable in this trade. His tail… the fur’s a bit shaggy but we can trim it down. The ears… are, no marks or slits, _excellent_ , Lord Musa does so hate those. Hmmm…”

“So?” Capt’n asked impatiently when the Au ra just stared at Aza, humming contemplatively every so often.

“Five hundred thousand gil for the boy,” the Au ra decided, “If the girl is anything like him… two hundred thousand gil for her. We’ll have to pay the expenses of her upbringing,” he added, when Capt’n opened her mouth to protest.

She closed her mouth, looking mulish for a moment, “Six hundred thousand gil for the boy.”

“Five hundred and twenty thousand gil,” the Au ra returned shortly.

They went back and forth like this for a while. Aza zoned out, still in a distant state of shock. He was comforted only by the fact that at least his sister was coming with him – and instantly felt disgusted with himself. He should’ve been hoping for her to escape this, not being enslaved with him.

“Fine, five hundred and fifty thousand gil for the boy, and three hundred thousand for the girl,” the Au ra finally relented, looking a bit disgruntled at the Capt’n’s aggressive haggling, “But the girl better be untouched as you promised.”

“Only a bruise on her cheek,” the Capt’n promised.

“Very well. Leave the boy here and bring the girl. You know where to collect your payment, Captain Loetrlona.”

Capt’n let go of him, and he had to quickly stagger to regain his balance without her holding him up. She strolled away with a cocky swagger, pleased about her sale, and Aza stood there, listing from side to side, eyeing the Au ra who was eyeing him right back.

“You _are_ in a right state… I should have bought you cheaper,” the Au ra sighed, “Well, no matter. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

He turned away. Before Aza could even concoct the idea of running away when his back was turned, two guards that had been standing silently by the doorway of the sale’s room marched forwards. They were Hyurs… he thinks, and they grabbed him each by the arm and hauled him onwards, forcing him to keep pace as they exited the sale room. Aza had been too out of it to really take note of where they took him before, but now he realised he was in some… large, fancy looking building, with a hallway in some exotic design he has never seen before.

“You will be pleased to learn that Lord Musa abhors physical discipline,” the Au ra was saying over his shoulder, “There will be none of those… _brutish_ tactics of Captain Loetrlona here. However, total obedience is expected of you, as an asset of Lord Musa.”

“Why,” Aza croaked. His throat felt like it was on fire, and he belatedly realised he hadn’t… drank anything in two days, hmm… “Should I.”

The Au ra glanced at him briefly, “Because he has _purchased_ you. You are free to collect the funds relative to your value and free yourself of your debt that way, but until then you are the property of Lord Musa and must adhere to his commands and desires.”

That made no sense to Aza’s exhausted mind. He made a mental note, once he felt like the ground wasn’t spinning so much, to find Ala as soon as possible and get the fuck out of here. It was a building. How hard could it be to escape?

“But I doubt an uncivilised barbarian like yourself would understand indentured servitude,” the Au ra sighed, “No matter, you’ll learn in time.” 

Aza doubted he would ever learn at all, and he didn’t intend to. He dropped into a sullen silence, quietly watching the unnamed Au ra’s back with the beginnings of hatred curdling deep behind his breastbone.

 

* * *

 

Allert whistled lowly, the noise echoing shrilly in the frozen hall, “Fury’s _tits_.”

Aza wrenched his sword out of the last zombie to fall, chest heaving from exertion as he scanned his immediate surroundings. Dismembered corpses littered the floor, hacked into several pieces – just to be certain – with the surviving knights and Allert all huddled by the table staring at him like he was going to sprout wings and declare himself Nidhogg at any moment. For once, that didn’t bother him overly much. He felt. Settled. Calm.

He glanced down at the sword in his hand, seeing that its smooth, well-polished surface was now chipped and cracked from the sheer force required to sever through frozen leather and chainmail, no matter how rotted and rusted. Bones, too, required a lot of effort.

“Hey, lad,” Allert called out to him. Aza looked up to see him slowly approach, his expression wary, “What’re you thinkin’ there?”

“Hm…” Aza eyed him, then the knights behind him. Frightened. Understandable, he just took on an entire horde of zombies single-handedly and come out with… only a few injuries. One or two bit him, and their fingernails were terrifyingly sharp, but otherwise… “I’m okay.”

“Okay? No… Voidsent crap diggin’ in that skull of yours?”

“No,” Aza tossed the now useless blade down, seeing everyone relax the moment it was out of his hands, “I feel pretty good, actually. Invigorated, almost.”

“Really,” Allert said doubtfully.

Aza looked about at his feet, then started picking a path through the carnage back to the group. Only Allert didn’t shuffle back at his approach, “Really. So, think I can have my weapon back now?”

“Haha…  no,” Allert said flatly, “You’re acting odd. Besides, we need to sort _this_ mess out.”

Aza turned to look at the mess. There were a lot of body parts to pick up, and he didn’t want to do that. Also… “But… _Aymeric?”_

“For the last time, you love-obsessed buffoon, the Lord Commander is fi-” Allert stopped with an abrupt frown, looking down at the zombie lying prone closest to him. “Wait… we didn’t dig up all the bodies, did we?”

“Uh, no,” one of the knights piped up, who was looking at Aza like he expected him to lunge at him and bite his throat out with his teeth, which, ew, gross, “We only cleared parts of the garrison. There’re still loads more out in… the… vigil…”

He trailed off when the implication of his words began to sink in. Everyone stared at each other.

“Oh, fuck,” Allert said.

 

* * *

 

It took a good hour for Lucia to gather enough of an organised force to mount a rescue operation.

It took just a little over an hour for that organised force to meet its first hurdle, literally only several fulms from the entrance hall’s doors.

The previous occupants of Dusk Vigil, long thought to be permanently put to rest after Aza’s last excursion through the area, were once again awake and restless. Lucia hadn’t realised how many bodies had been buried beneath the collapsed masonry and ice until she saw them slither out of the vigil’s nooks and crannies with low, rattling groans and high pitched, inhuman laughter, their grey faced locked in rictus grins.

They were no match for them, of course – their overwhelming discipline and numbers all but steamrolled over the shambling corpses, but it was enough to delay them as Lucia gave the order for every single corpse to be burned to ashes, to ensure it didn’t merely pull itself together and chase after their rears. Voidsent could do all kinds of profane, impossible things, after all.

But slowly and surely, Lucia advanced deeper into the vigil towards the Lord Commander’s chambers… just as the Warrior of Light and his small group left to mount a rescue of their own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yup, that's a thing. Aza's past is probably very predictable at this point. Kind of. Maybe. 
> 
> Anywho next chapter will have a lot more present-day action and interrupt the Voidsent... but Aym's already seen a good chunk of Aza's super secret past - enough to question him on it. But questions remain! What happened to Ala? Why did he see her dead? Why does he think he killed her? Will we ever find out???? most likely. 
> 
> This flu also refuses to shift pls LEAVE ME BE ILLNESS 
> 
> ALSO BIG THANK YOU TO ZERONOS WHO DID SOME [FANART](https://twitter.com/mosaicmoth_/status/986827286308532224) THANK YOU YOU LOVELY LOVELY PERSON YOU


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _It seems he’s a pet that responds well to gentle touches and positive reinforcement, rather than the liberal application of the stick._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: HEAVY IMPLICATION OF NON-CON/RAPE NEAR THE END

“Okay, so is everyone happy with the plan?”

The knights were all grim-faced as they nodded, but Allert scoffed from where he was tending to the wounded soldier. From what Aza gathered the man, Knight Rashax or some such, was going to make a full recovery… but wouldn’t be able to do much. Allert was determined to make him a ‘walking wounded’ at the very least, so he’d be less a burden when pulled along with them.

“Got something to add, Allert?” Aza asked the crotchety medic sweetly.

“Plenty,” Allert grumbled, sitting back on his heels as the glow of healing magic faded from his hands. He looked exhausted, with the beginnings of a bruise forming on his cheek where a zombie got a lucky swipe in, “You want us to leave this _perfectly defendable_ place, to go runnin’ after the Lord Commander ‘cause the vigil is probably going to become a nest of shamblin’ undead, all because you feel like we need to protect him, even though he has an entire contingent of soldiers with him at this very moment.”

“This hall is a bit difficult to defend with only _nine_ of us,” Aza pointed out grumpily, “And I’m _handicapped_ , remember? I’m apparently not allowed to so much as look at a weapon, so your defensive capabilities are even more useless.”

“Lad, you did not see yourself with those zombies. I thought you were fuckin’ _possessed_ by Nidhogg himself or some shit.”

Aza threw up his hands in frustration, “I _always_ fight like that! It’s my _thing_!”

“Um, Ser Aza?” One of the knights piped up – it was the mousey one, honestly, he looked like he should still be at home clutching his mother’s skirt than running around with swords, but what did Aza know about appropriate ages to arm the youth? His name was… Oseux or something like that, he wasn’t sure. He decided to mentally label him ‘Mouse’ for now, “If you’re not allowed a weapon, how are we meant to safely re-join one of the hunting parties when the undead attack us?”

“Ah ha,” Allert said in grim amusement, “What’s your answer to that?”

“Easy. One of you will carry my weapon for me,” Aza told Mouse, “And then when we come across those Voidsent humping fuckfaces, you toss it to me, I slaughter them all, and then I hand the weapon back.”

“What if the Voidsent possesses you during that time, sir?” Another knight asked flatly. Not once during this nightmare had his expression changed, even when everyone else had been staring at him like he was Nidhogg-reborn. At this point Aza was beginning to think this knight was either a very life-like Mammet or a soulless husk. It weirded him out.

“You all dogpile me and Allert hits me over the head until I pass out,” Aza said reasonably.

Allert rolled his eyes, “Oh, as easy as that, huh?”

“You’re all overthinking this,” Aza said impatiently, “Listen. What happens if we just sit here?”

Mouse stuck up his hand, as if he was in school. Aza eyed him exasperatedly and Mouse seemed to shrink a little before saying hesitantly, “We barricade the entranceways and wait for the Lord Commander to return?”

“Sure. But then if the Voidsent decides to _grace_ us with its physical presence, because they’re not hindered by locked doors, you see, then we’ve locked ourselves in with one.”

“And as it seems to have a strange influence over our Warrior of Light here,” Allert continued, “We’d all be fucked. Basically.”

“Pretty much,” Aza agreed.

“So, our only option is to leave and find safety in numbers?” One knight asked. He was soft-spoken and looked very pale and dazed. He was the one who screamed ‘Gallent’ when that poor knight got torn apart. Aza thought his name was… Irlent or something, “But we’ll be vulnerable before we reach the other groups.”

“But at least if the Voidsent swoops down from the shadows, you’ve got freedom to run,” Aza pointed out, grimacing over this scenario. “It’ll be _okay_ , I promise. The vigil isn’t _that_ big, we’ll run into one of the groups eventually.”

“As much as I hate it…” Allert huffed out a sigh, “I have to agree with your stupid plan.”

“Hey,” Aza frowned.

“We can’t sit and defend this position,” Allert continued like he hadn’t spoken. “Aside from it being filled with rotting corpses strewn all over the place – _thank you_ , Aza – we just don’t have the numbers to hold it if another wave comes barging through those doors there. The Voidsent could come back too, with its weird black magic shit, and then we’ll really be _fucked_.”

“Exactly,” Aza said, still frowning at Allert, “So, get ready to move in about fifteen minutes or so. Hopefully, uh, Rashax will be fine to walk then?”

“After stuffing several X-potions down his throat, sure,” Allert muttered, “Oseux, go grab me some smelling salts, will you? Just to stir him awake some.”

“Sir!” Mouse squeaked, scrambling to his feet and jogging to the makeshift medbay in the far corner. Huh, so his name _was_ Oseux…

“Aza, c’mere for a sec,” Allert said, standing up from Rashax’s side and walking off a few paces, a clear sign that the conversation was to be private. The lingering knights drifted away, chatting quietly to themselves with various expressions of doubt as Aza wandered over to Allert.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“You sure you’re okay?” Allert demanded, looking at him with an uncomfortable intensity.

“Yes?” Aza answered, confused. In all honesty… he felt great. All that worn-down exhaustion and feeling of being drained from earlier had completely evaporated into thin air. He knew he felt better when killing monsters, it was always a mood lifter, but this was like an extreme version of it. Relieved and eased up, like he’d stretched out a cramp he didn’t know was bothering him. It was kind of strange… but he just chalked it up to the dark aether he carried within himself. Sometimes if the balance was just right, the adrenaline and endorphins released when he was fighting mixed perfectly with the ambient dark aether within himself, putting him in a kind of euphoric state, like he’d snorted a good dose of Somnus. He’ll crash and burn in a few hours, most likely – but until then he planned to ride out these good vibes for as long as possible.  

“Hmm…” Allert leaned in – Aza leaned back, not liking him so much in his personal space – and stared deeply into his eyes. “Pupils dilated but focused… follow my finger,” he ordered, lifting his hand up and wagging his finger from side to side.

Irritated, Aza humoured him. When Allert was satisfied he could follow his finger, he made him do some other annoying things, like touching his nose whilst balancing on one leg, and saying the Eorzean alphabet backwards. Just when he was about to lose his temper about the whole thing, Allert finally relented with a short huff.

“I guess you’re _reasonably_ lucid…” Allert grumbled, “I’ll be keeping an eye on you, though.”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Aza snapped, “What, you think I’m drugged up or something?”

“You’re lookin’ and actin’ like it,” Allert said bluntly, “Your pupils are blown, your hands haven’t stopped shakin’ since you let go of that sword and you’re full of enough manic energy to make _me_ jittery. Maybe you’re not _physically_ drugged up, but you sure are ridin’ some kind of aether high.”

It most likely _was_ an aether high, but Aza was going to admit to it, “Whatever.”

“Go run a few laps round the hall,” Allert ordered, “Try and burn some of that energy off while I get Knight Rashax back on his feet.”

Aza made a face at him but did as he was told. Truthfully, he needed to stretch his legs out a bit, limber up for what was to come. He didn’t really have a plan after ‘find Aymeric and kill anything hostile within a ten-fulm radius of him’, but Aza was sure he’ll figure something out. It may be the aether high talking, but he was sick and tired of being _scared_ here. He was going to kill that Voidsent, kill every zombie in this fucking place, and burn Dusk Vigil to the ground and piss on its ashes.

That’ll teach it to fuck with him.

 

* * *

 

Allert did not like this plan.

He, quite frankly, thought it was a _terrible_ idea, to be roaming about in an undead infested vigil with only seven of them combat worthy, but it was unfortunately the only option open to them, really. Knight Rashax was up and walking at least, but he was just as grey as the damned zombies, his slow walk forcing their group to move at a snail’s pace. Considering he was recovering from a half-way successful disembowelling, that was admirable enough, but Allert could see that the agonisingly sluggish pace was grinding on Aza’s nerves.

Aza. Now that was another issue.

He didn’t say anything in front of the men, if only because they were shaken enough after Aza’s little… show, but there was something seriously, fundamentally _wrong_ in that boy’s head, and Allert didn’t think the Voidsent was to blame for it. Oh, he was aware Aza was a bit bloodthirsty, a bit too hungry for a good fight – but there were plenty of warriors like that. Dragoon Estinien was like that himself – that man had a terrifying slasher smile whenever he enjoyed himself overly much slaying dragons, back in the day.

But back there, in the hall? Fury’s tits, Aza had been almost _orgasmic_. He had derived a savage, sadistic glee in chopping those poor fucks into pieces. There was no finesse, no clean blow to incapacitate the zombies or put them down quickly. Nope. It was just him ruthlessly crushing them however he wished and savouring every minute of it. He didn’t even seem to realise where he was when he was right in the thick of it either, like he’d zipped off to somewhere else mentally. Was he always like that before the Voidsent fucked with him? Allert didn’t know. Either way, it made him deeply uneasy.

Especially since Aza’s temper was visibly fraying as he watched. The Miqo’te would walk ahead of the group pointedly for a few fulms, then pause to wait for them to catch up, pacing the width of the corridor, before marching off again, his tail lashing at a faster and faster pace, his ears flicking back more and more. He wasn’t saying anything though, despite his visible impatience, but Allert didn’t like how his gaze would flicker to the shadows, as if tracking something invisible to everyone else, brief moments where he would zone out before snapping back to reality. It was like he was in an entirely different world. Allert didn’t like it.  

A quiet grunt next to him made him warily look away from their loose cannon to see Knight Oseux struggling under the weight of Aza’s greatsword. Oseux had relieved his longsword to Knight Rashax, as his blade was ruined by Aza’s… earlier enthusiasm and had Aza’s magnetic harness and blade strapped to him instead. He hadn’t let out a single complaint so far, but the sweat pouring down his face showed he was beginning to flag underneath the considerable weight of Aza’s monster of a weapon.

“Alright there, Oseux?” Allert asked him casually.

“F-Fine, sir,” Oseux huffed, his face set in grim determination, “I can carry it for a bit longer.”

Allert hummed, eyeing him for a moment before glancing back at Aza. They were almost at the recreational hallway now. Unanimously, they decided to head to where Knight Launix’s body fell, as Allert stupidly mentioned that was where the Lord Commander had headed to first and Aza had pounced all over it. It was like Aza was dealing with his general anxiety over the situation by throwing all his energy into obsessing over the Lord Commander’s well-being. It was incredibly unhealthy and alarming.

They reached the stairs and Aza – paused at the top of them, peering down into the grim darkness with a very neutral expression. Allert and the rest of the knights paused with him, half-expecting him to spout something like ‘the Echo says there’s a fuckton of zombies down there’ or something equally depressing, but Aza just. Stared.

Allert let this go on for about two minutes before pointedly clearing his throat.

“Uh, Aza? Somethin’ wrong?”

Aza stirred out of whatever daze he had fallen into, looking at Allert like he was surprised he was there for a moment. “Hm? Oh, no, no. Nothing’s wrong.”

“Then why’re you glowerin’ down the stairs like they did you a wrong?”

“It’s…” Aza didn’t answer for a moment, his gaze drifting down the stairwell again. It was ominously dark, and he could distantly hear the drip of water, as well as the smell of damp and, hmm, metallic? There was definitely a very faint metal smell in the air, but Allert couldn’t place it. “I smell blood.”

Oh. Now he could place it. “What?”

“There’s blood down there,” Aza’s voice was a little faint, and his tail was moving very slowly from side to side. Allert didn’t know what that piece of body language meant, “Zombies don’t bleed. It’s all congealed and frozen. So. Living bodies.”

And Aymeric was meant to be down there, Allert finished mentally, eyeing Aza with extra caution now. “Aza.”

“Living bodies…” Aza repeated to himself, nodding a little – and started down the stairs. Allert exchanged looks with the rest of the squad before grimly following, though not after delegating Oseux right to the rear, to put a bit of extra distance between Aza and his weapon. He definitely made sure his Sleep spell was on the tip of his tongue.

They stepped into pure carnage. The hallway was dark, but not dark enough to hide what had happened. The entire thing had collapsed, masonry and support beams creating a thick, impassable wall the moment they stepped off the stairs. Allert could see a few unlucky bastards caught on the very outskirts of the cave-in, crushed to death, and there was a lot of blood oozing out from beneath the stone, already congealed and frozen. This happened hours ago.

“Seven Hells…” Irlent whispered, “Did this catch the entire group?”

Allert didn’t answer, his gaze fixed on Aza, who seemed to be treating this entire thing with an emotionless calm. He was simply staring at the wall as if it was some odd yet harmless inconvenience he hadn’t expected, his expression unreadable and eyes blank.  

“Maybe it only caught the rear of the group?” Oseux suggested timidly, “I-I think the rest of that hallway travelled to the rear garrison, near the main chapel, so maybe they pushed onwards to there?”

“So, we go round?” Rashax asked breathlessly around a quiet groan of pain. He looked ashen at the thought of more walking.

“Maybe it’d be easier to find the other groups…” Irlent muttered.

As the rest of the knights conversed with one another their options, Allert edged a bit closer to Aza, not liking his quietness, “Aza? Lad?”

“He’s not dead,” Aza told him calmly, his gaze not wavering from the cave in, “I’d know.”

“Sure,” Allert said, humouring him, “I think it’d take more than several tonze of masonry to kill him.”

Aza looked at him, and there was something so alarmingly _predatory_ about it that Allert got a chill crawling up his damn spine. It lasted for only a fraction of a second though, because Aza shook his head, like dislodging a fly, and turned away. His earlier energy seemed to be waning, and he looked as ill as before, pale and shaky. Though, that might be the cold, he knew Aza didn’t deal well with it, and down here the cold bit _deep_. Even Allert, who liked to think he was nigh immune to any harsh Ishgardian chill, was fighting shivers. It was like he’d stepped in a damned ice-cold lake.

“I think… I know where he could be, from here,” Aza murmured, lifting a hand and rubbing his forehead. His face spasmed with pain.

“Aza?” Allert asked sharply, “You fine there, lad?”

“Yeah, just, headache,” he muttered, shaking it off with difficulty, “We need to go to the upper levels, though. One of the floor caves into an old barracks, with a passageway that leads to the end here. I’m guessing that’s how Launix found me when I was… compromised.”

“Uh huh…” Allert said slowly, watching him. He was beginning to look unsteady, like something was draining him of strength. Could it be…? When Aza first returned with the Lord Commander, Allert had noticed that his aetherical channels were unnaturally contracted. It was common in those who had unsavoury brushes with Voidsent, bunch of aether vampires that they were, but as far as Allert was aware, the Voidsent wasn’t here. But it could _close by_ , and if it had brute-forced some kind of connection with Aza, it could pull on his aether whenever he was in close proximity. It wasn’t _unheard_ of…

“Do you hear something?” Aza asked suddenly, his ears flicking forwards in full alert.

Allert paused to listen. The hens behind him were still clucking to one another, so it made it a bit difficult, and his hearing wasn’t on par with a damn Miqo’te’s but… yeah, he could hear _something_. Like a dull buzzing noise that made his teeth itch… and a scratching noise, but that could easily be rats in the walls.

“Buzzin’…” he muttered.

“I heard that before…” Aza said slowly, getting a faraway look, “I left the garrison and Ala appeared… then the Voidsent…”

“Who?”

Aza snapped back to reality, and like a steel trap sliding shut his face went blank, “…I think the Voidsent is near.”

“Right,” Allert said, deciding to let his curiosity go for now. “On the other side?”

“Most likely,” Aza turned back to the wall, looking worried and tired, “It did show a lot of interest in Aymeric. Maybe…”

“This was a way to split him off from most of his forces, shit…” Allert sighed, “Alright men!” he yelled, turning back to the knights. They all sprung to attention, sans Rashax who gave it a good effort, but doubled over almost immediately, “We’ve reason to think that bastard Voidsent caused this cave-in t’get to the Lord Commander. We’re gonna go round and lend him what aid we can!”

“With just _us_?” Irlent asked, pale-faced at the thought.

“If we see any of the other groups on the way, we’ll drag ‘em along too,” Allert said, “But _I_ do not want to be the one to tell Ser Lucia that we didn’t rush to the Lord Commander’s aid ‘cause we were too scared to go toe to toe with a Voidsent.”

Everyone blanched at that thought.

“Y-You know what, I think that’s a great idea!” Irlent said, “We’ll show that Voidsent what-for!”

The other knights muttered their agreement, though Oseux looked like he’d rather face Lucia’s wrath. He was a greenhorn, though, he’d soon learn that she was the bigger evil in this scenario.

“Then about turn!” Allert barked, watching the knights leap to obey, “Let’s pick up the pace! Rashax, you can groan and whimper when you’re back in your own bed!”

Rashax looked grim but bravely nodded as they hurried back up the stairs. Aza kept pace with the group this time, and Allert noted that a bit of colour returned to his cheeks the further away they got. So, parasitic Voidsent connection it was, then.

Hopefully they’d run into an Exorcist along the way. Allert didn’t know shit on how to break that kind of bond.

 

* * *

 

 

Aymeric was beginning to get tired of waking up in pain.

Except this time, he was contending with the phantom aches of Memory-Aza’s injuries – but the dazed grogginess lasted for only a split second before the reality of what he just witnessed sunk in. The white-hot fury that bubbled deep inside of him gave him the strength to push himself onto his hands and knees, despite his entire body shaking from exhaustion. The Voidsent was curiously, but blessedly, quiet.

Aza had been _bought_ , but worse than that, he’d been _beaten_ almost half to death by those disgusting slavers when he’d been nothing more than a _child_. That Au ra as well… Aymeric clenched his hands tight, digging his knuckles into the rough, frozen stone beneath him as he remembered how that Au ra had looked at Aza like he was property to be valued-

_“…he’ll grow up pretty…”_

The implication of those words made him feel sick to his stomach, but it brought certain behaviours into a horrifying context; how Aymeric had to repeatedly and firmly convince Aza that he was never obligated to satisfy him sexually if he genuinely wasn’t in the mood, no matter how frisky Aymeric himself was. How when feeling pressured or upset Aza would grow restless and uncomfortable with physical contact and intrusion of his personal space, of being cornered or pinned down or-

Fuck. Aymeric had never felt so furious and horrified in his life. He knew this without Aza’s _consent_ too. He-

_Internalised the fact that your precious Warrior of Light is nothing more than a common slave yet?_

“Shut up,” Aymeric hissed, managing to get his feet underneath him. He felt like his insides were scraped raw, his legs barely taking his weight, and immediately knew that the Voidsent was most likely feeding off him as it distracted him with these unwanted _visions_. “If you believe, that for a _moment_ , I would look down on Aza for _that-_ ”

 _Hmm, I considered the possibility that you wouldn’t,_ the Voidsent seemed positively delighted at Aymeric’s visible anger, _Considering your own background. Unwanted bastard that you are, there’s some kinship between those who suffered unhappy beginnings. But there is far more to see_.

“I don’t want to see anymore,” Aymeric told it, even though his protests were futile. As if motion would somehow spare him, he began walking again – unsteadily, weakly, still-half blind in this dark corridor with his body feeling like it was chugging on mere fumes.

 _Are you sure?_ The Voidsent purred, _It’s very good, very delightful. I’ll spoil a bit for you, if you want: he murders his master in cold blood._

Aymeric paused for a fraction of a second – but pushed onwards, ignoring it.

 _Stabs him to death several times in his bed, and then kept stabbing long after he expired,_ the Voidsent continued eagerly, _So much rage and hatred and bitterness, in such a small, young body. Why, it’s a miracle love had any chance of growing in such a withered heart._

Aymeric almost walked right into a door, the hallway ending so abruptly. He felt its splintery surface until his fingers curled around a frozen door knob. He gave it a few tries, finding it frozen shut, and began shoving his shoulder against it.

The Voidsent took his cold silence in stride, its oily voice unfortunately clear over the noise of Aymeric’s pauldron striking brittle wood, _But not to worry, he seems so very devoted to you, dear Aymeric,_ it purred, _It seems he’s a pet that responds well to gentle touches and positive reinforcement, rather than the liberal application of the stick. A loving slav-_

“He is not-!” Aymeric snapped, then stopped, refusing to rise to the bait and stopped his attempt to open the door. It was stuck fast, and he was too woozy and weak to muster the physical strength needed to knock it open. He leaned against it, breathing in the humid, frozen air, trying not to cough as the brick dust caught in the back of his throat.

 _Hmmm… I’d love to enlighten you some more, but it seems dear Aza is on his way,_ the Voidsent sounded darkly satisfied, even as Aymeric’s heart fluttered in fear. Aza was _on his way_? No, why was he-? Allert _promised_ him to make sure he stayed put! _Come to save you, of all things, how disgustingly devoted. Well, I better finish breaking him all the way through, then. Claim my new body while I’m at it. Stay here and catch your breath… I’m not done playing with you just yet…_

And with that, the bone-deep cold eased until Aymeric felt like he could breathe again. The hallway was still pitch-black, and he still felt dizzy and weak, but the Voidsent was gone, he could tell that much.

He slid down the length of the door until he was on his knees, overcome with helpless frustration. Twelve _damn it_. How did all of this go so _wrong_?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will say that the non-con elements are purely what Aymeric are hypothesising on what little he has seen and what the Voidsent implies, however I will also say he is not... entirely that far off the mark. For now though, it will remain ambiguous and Aym will NOT be touching that can of worms with a ten foot pole until they are in a far more comfortable setting (in fact, let's just say 90% of what aym sees won't be talked about until after the voidsent is dealt with and they've both recovered from the horrible ordeal by lying in bed for a week). 
> 
> But we're reaching the climax soon! This fic is p short tbh, I think it should only be about 12 chapters max if i include post-dusk vigil epilogue stuff? hmmm...

**Author's Note:**

> So, it's time for me to brush off my horror writing skills - and also give a bit more insight into Aza's awful, terrible, no-good past. It won't just be Aza enduring the Voidsent's tender mercies, plenty of other soldiers and Aymeric himself will have their turn with them. But for now, Aza's the one catching its main interest. I will say though, that there will be A LOT of disturbing themes, and some chapters may have graphic depictions of violence (as well as Aza suffering from PTSD during this), so please keep that in mind if you continue reading this! 
> 
> Please comment/kudos if you enjoyed! Ill try to get through my inbox once my internet is fixed, but it's still being incredibly unreliable. I'm posting this from a coffee shop wifi right now.. oi...


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